ll 

^  THE  1 
mW.  WRITINGS    OF 

THE  RT.  REV.  JOHN  5.  DELANY,  D.  D. 

SECOND  BISHOP  OF  MANCHESTER^, 
NEW  HAMPSHIRE, 


anil  Uritwga  nf 


£§Ur    i^C^_ 

V  SECOND  BISHOP  OF    MANCHESTER 


OF 


IStglft  2Uorr«tJi 

n  Umrarfc  le latuj,  I. 

SECOND  BISHOP  OF  MANCHESTER,  N.  H. 


BY 

(S.  01.  I. 


LOWELL,  MASS. 

THE  LAWLKK  PRINTING  COMPANY. 

1911 


Copyright, 
1911 

THE    LAWLER    PRINTING    COMPANY, 
LOWELL,  MASS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


tn  ite  memnrg  nf 

Fredgrtrk 

nf 

xaha  riteil 
15,  1911 


(Oluitut. 


PATRICK  J.  SUPPLE,  D.  D. 
Censor  Librorum 


Imprimatur. 

»£  WILLIAM  H.  O'CONNELL 
Archbishop  of  Boston. 


Htfr  att&  UrttmgB  of 


Stgljt 


Sii?hu;t  of 


3Jttir0burt0nj 


The  Life  and  Writings  of  Bishop  Delany  have  been 
published  at  the  urgent  request  of  his  many  friends  among 
the  clergy  and  laity.  No  attempt  has  been  made  at  a 
formal  biography.  The  memoir  has  been  compiled  from 
various  sources',  from  the  Bishop 's  diaries,  his  home  letters, 
from  some  of  his  editorials  and  public  speeches,  and  from 
articles  printed  fi  om  time  to  time  during  his  priestly  and 
episcopal  career.  As  much  as  possible  his  own  words  have 
been  used,  for  they  better  than  any  others  disclose  the  domi- 
nant idea  of  his  life,  and  the  principle  that  guided  him  at 
all  times.  Several  events  have  been  related  by  his  intimate 
friends,  and  by  those  who  labored  with  him  in  his  sacred 
ministry.  To  these,  and  to  all  who  have  in  any  way  assisted 
the  present  publication,  sincere  and  heartfelt  thanks  are 
extended. 

A  special  acknowledgment  of  gratitude  is  made  to 
The  Most  Reverend  Patrick  Delany,  D.  D.,  Archbishop 
of  Hobatt,  Tasmania; 

The  Most  Reverend  William  H.  O^Connell,  D.  D.,  Arch- 
bishop of  Boston,  Mass. ;  and  to 

The  Right  Reverend  Joseph  G.  Anderson,  D.  D.,  Auxil- 
iary Bishop  of  Boston,  Mass. 


Appreriattnn, 


A  man  often  unconsciously  reveals  his  soul  when  he  sets 
a  value,  zvhether  it  be  upon  a  painting,  an  accomplishment,  a 
house,  or  even  length  of  days.  None  of  these  things  has  an 
absolute  fixed  valuation.  It  depends  upon  how  one  likes 
them. 

Old  age  sheltered  by  the  fire-side,  the  silvery  locks,  the 
calm  dimmed  eye,  the  resigned  features;  all  these  have  for 
some  a  great  fascination.  They  look  upon  a  long  life  and  a 
serene  old  age  as  a  beautiful  possession  which  they  hope  one 
day  to  be  theirs.  To  them  it  is  a  treasure  which  must  be 
obtained  by  dint  of  saving.  So  they  save  their  energy,  their 
emotion,  their  effort,  their  enthusiasm,  for  all  of  these  zvear 
out  the  slender  thread  of  vitality.  They  become  parsimo- 
nious of  their  forces  so,  that  they  may  last  longer.  And  some 
have  become  atrophied  of  mind  and  heart  long  before 
nature's  hour,  simply  that  they  may  live  long.  They  cease 
to  do  everything  but  live.  To  them  that  is  enough.  Their 
ambition  is  satisfied.  They  are  proud,  not  of  what  they 
might  have  accomplished,  but  of  being  alive. 

That  is  one  point  of  view.  And,  in  a  certain  sense,  to 
cheat  nature  of  twenty  years  is  something  of  an  achievement 
not  to  be  disdained.  But  there  is  another  standard,  as  there 
alzvays  is  for  most  things. 

To  many  the  picture  of  life  at  eighty  or  ninety  is  far 
from  fascinating;  indeed,  it  is  looked  upon  with  something 
akin  to  horror.  To  such,  old  age  is  not  all  silvery  locks  and 
calm  eyes.  It  is  sadly  helpless,  pathetically  dependent,  tire- 
fully  reminiscent  and  dreadfully  lonely. 

"Give  me  calm  and  longevity,"  cries  one.  "Give  me  an 
active  and  full  life,"  says  the  other,  "and  when  my  working 
day  is  done,  let  me  go  zvhere  I  can  begin  eternal  youth." 

Which  is  right?  Whatever  the  academic  answer  may 
be,  happily  we  cannot  practically  settle  it.  We  shall,  all  of 
us,  either  zvork  or  zvait  as  God  wills.  But  certainly  there  is 
something  splendid  and  heroic  in  the  sudden  taking-off  of  a 


valiant  soldier  with  his  armor  on,  in  the  midst  of  the  fight. 
And  when  the  fight  is  for  God  and  when  the  soldier  dies  on 
the  field,  what  laurel  wreath  is  green  and  beautiful  enough 
to  lay  upon  his  bier? 

What  my  beloved  friend,  the  sweet  record  of  whose 
noble  life  is  written  here,  thought  upon  the  subject  of  old  age 
I  know  not.  But  1  do  know  that  when  he  fell  in  the  thick  of 
the  fight  for  Holy  Church,  he  smiled.  He  was  too  young 
not  to  feel  the  human  pathos  of  a  death  so  early,  so  unlocked 
for.  But  he  loved  and  trusted  his  King  too  completely  to 
even  ask  Him  why. 

He  worked  all  his  life  as  he  had  seen  men  ivork  in  the 
busy  city  where  his  youth  sped  by.  There  in  the  early  morn 
the  bell  sounded  to  labor  and  again  at  night  to  rest.  His 
brain  was  too  active,  his  mind  too  vigorous,  his  heart  too 
happy  to  ever  know  ivhat  idleness  meant. 

As  a  student  he  still  studied  when  his  task  was  finished. 
As  a  priest  he  still  found  or  invented  other  duties  when 
those  allotted  him  were  completed.  As  a  Bishop  he  planned 
new  labors  when — the  end  came. 

Would  the  calm,  the  inactivity,  the  inertia  of  age  have 
ever  attracted  him?  God  knew  best,  and  has  forever  silenced 
all  questioning.  He  zvas  a  laborer  in  the  Vineyard  and  he 
died  laboring.  Others  will  reap  what  he  has  sown.  But  the 
best  seed  he  ever  sowed  zvas  love  of  joyful  work  in  the  cause 
of,  God  and  His  Church. 

H.  ©'fltaniwTI, 

£rjclrbtstT0p  of  Boston. 


In  the  life  of  any  personage  of  note  written  for  publi- 
cation, the  reader  naturally  looks  for  the  narration  of  the 
extraordinary  incidents  and  events  that  made  such  a  life  so 
important  as  to  be  considered  zvorthy  of  presentation  before 
the  public. 

Measured  by  this  standard  there  is  little  in  the  life  of 
Bishop  Delany  that  could  merit  the  mark  of  greatness.  And 
yet,  the  lives  of  many  who  have  passed  this  critical  test  are 
oftentimes  wanting  in  those  sweet,  simple  traits  of  character 
that  appeal  to  the  human  heart  or  are  gifted  with  such 
superior  talents  as  to  place  them  far  removed  from  the  every 
day  life  about  them.  When,  however,  they  are  found  to  be 
in  sympathetic  touch  with  and  living  our  own  simple  ex- 
istence, their  lives  then  appeal  to  us  more  forcibly  than  all 
their  greatness  of  intellect  or  heroic  deeds.  Such  a  life  is 
that  of  Bishop  Delany,  —  beautiful  for  its  simplicity,  loving 
for  its  gentleness  of  character,  and  inspiring  for  its  noble- 
ness of  mind,  generosity  of  heart  and  earnestness  of  faith 
and  seal. 

Though  all  too  brief  was  his  career  as  Bishop  there 
^vere  evidences  of  saintly  seal  and  splendid  talents,  which, 
had  he  been  spared,  would  have  added  lustre  and  glory  to 
the  Diocese  of  Manchester,  which  he  ruled  and  God's  church 
in  New  England,  as  judged  by  his  few  years'  labor  and  by 
the  apostolic  seal  and  noble  character  of  his  whole  priestly 
life.  As  an  old  class-mate  and  life-long  friend,  I  pay  this 
tribute  of  love  for  his  many  noble  traits  of  character  and  for 
his  genuine,  sincere,  and  zealous  devotion  to  God  and  the 
Church.  May  his  life  prove  an  inspiration  to  all  who  read 
it  as  his  memory  will  always  be  to  those  who  knew  and 
loved  him. 

^  firaeph  <&.  Jkndersmt, 

of  Boston. 


Feast  of  All  Saints,  1910. 


CONTENTS 


FAMILY  HISTORY 1 

EARLY  LIFE          -                -  5 

SEMINARY  LIFE    -                         -  16 

PRIESTLY  LIFE     -  146 

FATHER  DELANY  AS  EDITOR  OF  GUIDON            -  176 

EPISCOPACY  247 

POEMS 430 


FAMILY   HISTORY 


THE  genealogy  of  the  Delany  family  reads  so  like 
a  page  from  Irish  history  that  a  few  of  its  items 
cannot  but  be  of  interest  in  the  biography  of  him 
who  was  always  proud  to  trace  his  happy  heritage  of 
faith  to  the  land  of  his  parents'  birth.  Although 
Bryan  and  Thomas  Delany,  the  grandfather  and 
father  of  Bishop  Delany  were  born  in  the  County  Gal- 
way,  Ireland,  their  ancestors  for  centuries  before  had 
settled  in  the  County  Kilkenny,  where  they  owned 
broad  acres  of  land  and  "bent  the  knee  to  no  human 
lord."  The  family  history  relates  that  they  "were 
possessed  of  considerable  substance,  and  pronouncedly 
different  in  character  from  the  prevailing  type  of  the 
neighborhood.  The  mental  and  physical  difference 
was  very  obvious.  The  men  were  rather  large  and 
fair-haired;  the  women  also.  They  seemed  to  have 
a  lingering  consciousness  of  some  kind  of  gentility, 
marking  them  off  from  the  families  amongst  whom 
they  dwelt,  and  into  which  they  intermarried. 

"About  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  the 
principal  branches  of  the  family  tree  took  growth  in 
the  County  Galway,  a  mile  or  two  on  the  farther 
side  of  Ballinamore,  and  here  in  the  West  the  second 
generation  brought  the  pride  and  prestige  of  the 
Delanys  to  the  highest  point  of  collective  distinction. 
It  was  the  age  of  sensitive  honor  in  Ireland. 


2  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

"Bryan  Delany,  the  Bishop's  grandfather,  was  a 
man  of  conspicuous  personality,  proud  indeed  of  the 
untarnished  honor  of  his  family.  He  was  in  every 
way  a  typical  Delany.  *  *  *  *  As  new  genera- 
tions came  on  and  the  pride  of  the  name  thinned  out 
with  the  inevitable  deterioration,  it  saddened  him  to 
see  the  change,  and  he  strove  to  fix  the  minds  of  the 
children  about  him  on  the  fine  old  traditions  of  the 
family.  He  loved  to  enumerate  the  many  names  of 
his  own  and  their  kindred  who  had  given  their  lives 
to  the  service  of  God  in  all  periods  of  the  Church's 
history,  both  men  and  women,  in  the  Isle  of  Saints, 
as  also  in  foreign  lands,  and  his  clear  retentive  mem- 
ory could  recall  and  recount  their  lives  and  labors 
with  wonderful  interest  and  accuracy." 

Of  the  ten  children  born  to  Bryan  and  Mary  Delany 
Thomas,  the  father  of  Bishop  Delany,  was  the  eldest, 
and  like  his  paternal  sire,  was  possessed  of  a  strong, 
upright  character,  ennobled  by  family  traditions.  In 
1857  he  left  the  land  of  his  birth  and  came  to  Amer- 
ica. He  settled  in  Lowell,  Massachusetts,  and  though 
young  in  years,  he  started  in  the  tailoring  business, 
which  he  carried  on  with  success  up  to  the  date  of 
his  death.  As  a  citizen  of  Lowell  he  was  highly  re- 
spected for  his  clear  and  conservative  views  in  all 
things  relating  to  the  city's  welfare.  He  was  a  great 
temperance  advocate,  and  for  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century  held  the  position  of  president  of  St.  Patrick's 
Temperance  Society,  while  all  his  life  he  was  identi- 
fied with  St.  Patrick's  Church.  For  years  he  was 
known  as  the  oldest  tailor  of  Lowell.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  highly  esteemed  residents  of  the  city,  a 
faithful  and  fervent  Catholic,  a  man  who  won  success 
by  the  strictest  adherence  to  the  calls  of  duty  by  an 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  3 

energy  which  overcame  all  obstacles  and  an  integrity 
which  gave  him  a  reputation  for  the  strictest  hon- 
esty and  surest  reliability. 

His  marriage  to  Catherine  Fox  took  place  shortly 
after  his  coming  to  America,  and  their  union  was 
blessed  by  nine  children.  Husband  and  wife  were 
possessed  of  the  rich  inheritance  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  Christian  virtues  which  were  reflected  in  their 
home,  as  in  their  lives,  and  brightened  and  blessed 
everything  around  them. 

Catherine  Fox  Delany,  the  Bishop's  mother,  was 
one  of  those  valiant  Christian  women  who  are  such 
only  because  initiated  from  their  youth  in  the  prac- 
tice of  all  virtues.  She  was  a  native  of  the  beautiful 
little  town  of  Ballatrain,  in  the  County  Monaghan, 
and  came  of  equally  sturdy  stock  as  her  husband, 
and  of  ancestors  very  remarkable  for  their  longevity. 
Her  calm  gentleness  and  firmness,  the  symmetry  of 
her  character,  her  tender  and  solid  piety  were  the 
happiness  of  her  husband  and  the  admiration  of  all 
who  approached  her.  She  lavished  on  her  children  a 
mother's  most  devoted  tenderness.  She  was  the  soul 
of  every  good  work  of  piety  and  beneficence  in  her 
neighborhood.  Hers  was  a  life  unmarred  by  selfish- 
ness, by  worldiness,  by  uncharitableness — a  life  whose 
wellsprings  were  deeply  sweet  and  pure — that  of  a  per- 
fect Christian.  Her  faith  was  strong  in  God,  and  her 
love  for  Him  limitless,  yet  her  faith  and  love  centred 
not  in  Him  alone,  but  went  out  to  His  creatures,  near 
and  distant.  Hers  was  a  life  where  deep  Christian 
principles  of  charity  and  good-will  combined  with  the 
sweetest  native  kindliness  of  spirit  to  make  her  very 
presence  a  harbinger  of  serenity,  forgiveness,  and 
love.  She  never  harbored  an  unkind  thought,  being 


4  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

incapable  of  it,  and  as  she  loved  all  those  who  came 
to  her,  every  one  loved  her.  Her  house  was  always 
a  haven  to  young-  people  to  whom  her  motherly  love 
was  a  benediction. 

To  the  needy  she  gave  not  only  of  this  benign  and 
cheering1  influence  of  her  gracious  spirit,  but  she  was 
always  ready  with  hand  and  purse  to  aid  them  as 
much  as  was  in  her  power.  Only  the  day  before 
her  death  she  went  to  see  a  sick  woman  for  whom 
she  had  tried  to  make,  as  she  said,  "a  little  Christmas 
cheer,"  to  try  to  have  her  forget  her  affliction.  More 
eloquently,  perhaps,  than  all  words  could  tell,  the 
deep  reverence  that  her  noble  and  distinguished  son 
bore  his  mother,  the  gratitude  he  always  showed  for 
the  true  Christian  principles  she  had  inculcated  in 
his  mind  and  heart  told  her  rare  moral  worth.  When 
the  bishop  was  consecrated  he  paid  her  the  sweetest 
tribute  that  ever  was  paid  a  mother,  the  acknow- 
ledgment that  he  was  her  moral  handiwork.  "All 
that  I  am,"  he  said  from  the  steps  of  the  sanctuary 
where  he  had  just  been  crowned  with  the  mitre,  "I 
owe  to  the  home  influences  which  surrounded  my 
youth."  And  descending  the  steps,  he  came  to  his 
mother,  kissed  her,  thanked  her,  and  gave  her  his  first 
Episcopal  blessing. 

"Like  mother,  like  son,"  is  an  old  saying,  never 
more  fully  exemplified  than  in  these  two  beautiful  and 
fruitful  lives,  where  the  piety,  the  charity,  humility 
and  perseverance  of  the  mother  became  intensified  and 
multiplied  tenfold  in  the  character  of  her  loving  and 
devoted  son. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY 


EARLY    LIFE 


JOHN  Bernard  Delany  was  born  on  Aug.  9,  1864,  in 
Lowell,  Massachusetts.  He  was  baptized  on  the  same 
day  in  St.  Patrick's  Church,  for  it  was  an  established 
custom  in  the  family  that  as  soon  as  possible  after 
the  birth  of  a  child  it  should  receive  the  waters  of 
regeneration.  He  was  solemnly  consecrated  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin  on  September  8,  1864,  when  he  was 
just  one  month  old.  The  ceremony  of  consecrating 
children  to  the  Queen  of  Heaven  was  for  many  years 
a  public  one  in  St.  Patrick's.  Was  not  that  consecra- 
tion in  some  way  a  presage  of  his  Episcopal  conse- 
cration that  took  place  forty  years  afterwards  on  this 
same  feast  of  our  Lady's  Nativity?  He  loved  this 
special  feast  of  our  Blessed  Mother,  and  he  chose  it  in 
preference  to  all  others,  because  of  his  devotion  and 
reverence  for  the  Mother  of  God.  It  was  in  his  own 
mother's  arms  he  first  heard  her  sweet  name,  and 
that  of  her  Divine  Son;  it  was  at  her  knee  he  lisped 
his  first  infant  prayer;  it  was  with  her  hand  he  first 
signed  himself  with  the  sign  of  Redemption;  it  was 
to  her  heart  he  always  brought  his  childhood's  joys 
and  sorrows,  and  to  it  his  own  tender  heart  was 
inseparably  united  from  his  earliest  days  to  the  last 
sad  solemn  hour  when  his  dying  eyes  looked  in  love 
upon  her,  and  his  failing  voice  said,  "Don't  cry, 
mother  dear,  I  shall  tell  God  all  about  you." 


6  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

When  night  after  night  the  children  gathered 
around  the  fireside  for  prayer  and  petition  to  God, 
surely  the  blessings  of  Heaven  descended  upon  the 
family  circle,  and  made  it  what  it  was  indeed,  a 
sanctuary  of  piety,  hospitality  and  peace. 

John  was  a  quiet,  thoughtful  boy  with  a  heart  as 
tender  and  affectionate  as  a  girl's.  His  mother  often 
related  examples  that  plainly  illustrated  his  delicate 
feelings.  Mrs.  Delany  loved  and  admired  everything 
that  was  true  and  good  and  beautiful,  and  she  taught 
her  children  to  see  in  nature  the  works  of  the  Crea- 
tor, and  to  "look  through  nature  up  to  nature's 
God."  She  encouraged  the  children  to  learn  and  re- 
cite passages  from  Scripture  and  little  poems  that 
served  for  pleasure  and  pastime  during  the  hours  of 
recreation  at  home.  One  of  the  children  especially 
loved  the  familiar  lines  called  "A  Child's  First  Grief," 
and  often  recited  them  aloud  to  her  indulgent  listeners. 
The  pathos  expressed  in  these  verses  touched  John 
so  deeply  that  whenever  his  little  sister  began  to  re- 
cite them,  he  stole  quietly  from  the  room  to  hide  the 
emotion  they  aroused  in  his  tender,  sympathetic  heart. 
This  act  of  his  was  noticed  and  commented  upon  by 
the  others  and  John  tried  hard  to  conceal  his  feelings, 
but  whenever  an  occasion  presented  itself  for  the 
recitation  of  the  children's  poems,  John  would  look 
beseechingly  at  his  little  sister,  and  whisper  "Don't 
say  the  sad  piece,  will  you?" 

Still,  even  with  his  sensitive  nature,  he  was  a  manly 
little  fellow,  so  thoughtful  and  considerate  of  others 
that  be  was  not  only  a  favorite  at  home  but  he  was 
greatly  loved  and  admired  by  his  companions.  His 
docility  and  obedience  were  remarkable.  His  parents 
often  said  that  they  never  knew  him  to  hesitate  for 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  7 

an  instant  in  the  fulfilment  of  any  of  their  wishes, 
and  oftentimes  their  unspoken  desires  were  executed 
by  him  even  before  they  were  expressed  in  words. 

At  the  time  of  his  death  one  of  his  teachers  of  the 
primary  school  wrote  thus  of  him:  "I  remember 
Johnnie  as  a  lad  of  more  than  the  averag-e  in  scholar- 
ship, of  much  beauty  of  face;  of  a  sunny,  yes,  of  a 
merry  disposition;  entering-  into  the  fun  of  life  with  a 
zest;  yet  ever  courteous  and  gentle  in  his  bearing; 
never  condescending1  to  anything  low  or  mean  in  act 
or  conversation  —  with  a  nature  like  his  such  thing's 
were  impossible.  John  could  not  tolerate  any  act  of 
injustice  toward  a  fellow  pupil;  his  great-heartedness 
prompted  the  quick  defence  of  one  whom  he  thought 
abused.  As  the  years  passed  and  new  scenes  and 
new  duties  came  to  us  both,  we  lost  each  other. 

"When  I  heard  that  he  was  to  be  made  Bishop  I 
remembered  so  well  the  fine  manly  boy  whom  I  had 
taught  during1  his  first  years  at  school,  and  I  wrote 
to  him  my  delight  at  the  honor  given  him.  In  spite 
of  the  multitude  of  duties  crowding  round  him  he 
replied,  sending  me  a  note  of  joy  that  I  had  written 
him.  From  time  to  time,  I  have  heard  from  him, 
and  of  his  work  so  faithfully  done.  When  the  news 
of  his  death  came,  I  sorrowed  with  you.  I  never 
think  of  him  as  'Johnnie  Delany'  as  his  school  mates 
of  the  old  days  called  him,  but  as  John,  'the  gift  of 
God,'  the  loving  disciple,  the  one  whom  Jesus  loved, 
the  nearest  and  dearest  to  our  Lord. 

"My  sympathy  for  you  in  your  loss  is  very  great. 
The  memory  of  the  boy  will  be  with  me  always.  As 
the  mother  is,  so  is  the  boy;  as  the  boy,  so  is  the 
man;  so  is  the  strong1  spirit  translated  from  glory  to 
glory. 


8  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

"We  do  not  know,  we  cannot  see  why  he  must  go 
from  what  seems  such  a  noble  work  here,  but  the 
Father  has  taken  him  to  a  larger  life,  and  to  the  com- 
panionship of  the  blessed,  even  such  as  the  beloved 
disciple  whose  name  he  bore." 

His  boyhood  days  and  years  went  by  happily,  holily 
and  usefully.  The  seed  was  being1  sown  by  skilful 
hands  in  his  heart  and  mind,  and  it  was  taking-  deep 
and  noiseless  root.  All  the  sweet  promises  of  the 
bright,  pious,  cheerful  boy;  the  gentle,  loving-,  and 
docile  son;  the  tender,  manly,  and  g-enerous  youth 
were  realized  in  the  rich  fruits  of  maturer  years. 

From  the  grammar  and  high  schools  of  his  native 
city  John  passed  to  further  study  at  Holy  Cross  Col- 
lege, Worcester,  where  he  remained  for  two  years. 
He  then  entered  Boston  College  from  which  institu- 
tion he  was  graduated  in  the  class  of  '87. 

Speaking  of  his  college  days,  one  of  his  most  inti- 
mate friends  and  classmates  says:  "The  wholesome 
spirit  of  rivalry,  naturally  found  to  exist  between  two 
sister  colleges,  was  not  wanting  between  Holy  Cross 
and  Boston  College  in  those  days  of  our  student  life, 
even  as  they  doubtless  exist  today.  The  boys  coming 
from  Holy  Cross  College  within  our  borders  were  the 
cynosure  of  all  eyes,  and  perhaps,  for  a  time,  became 
the  unconscious  victims  of  suspicion  until  the  class 
passed  favorable  judgment  upon  their  loyalty.  When 
John  came  to  our  class  in  Boston  College  there  was  a 
singular  departure  from  the  ordinary  manner  of  receiv- 
ing a  new-comer.  There  was  no  chip  on  the  shoulder; 
there  was  no  gauntlet  throw-down,  for  his  free  and 
open  manliness  straightway  disarmed  all  prejudice  and 
antagonism.  His  charming  and  attractive  fellowship, 
more  eloquent  than  the  spoken  word,  seemed  to  say, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  9 

'Now  I  have  come  to  cast  my  lot  with  yours, — not  that 
I  love  H.  C.  C.  the  less,  but  you,  B.  C.,  the  more' — 
this  it  was  that  made  him  one  of  us  from  the  first. 

"His  very  name,  John  B.  I/.  Delany,  had  in  it  a 
peculiar  attraction  in  those  days.  The  curious,  see- 
ing him  often  thus  sign  himself,  would  ask  the  mean- 
ing of  J.  B.  L.  With  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye  he 
would  answer  that  he  was  the  John  Boston  and  Lowell 
Delany  to  distinguish  him  from  all  others.  In  conse- 
quence, among  his  intimates,  he  was  frequently  called 
John  Boston  and  Lowell  Delany. 

"A  little  alcove,  of  the  old  Boston  Public  Library 
was  a  favorite  spot  where  he  and  others  liked  to 
gather  after  class  each  day  to  prepare  the  classics, 
or  to  absorb  Father  Russo's  deep  philosophy.  From 
such  frequent  gatherings  it  became  known  as  the  B. 
C.  corner  and  was  considered  a  hallowed  spot,  where 
many  a  day  and  many  a  year  success  and  failure 
were  spoken  of  as  among  brothers  with  congratula- 
tions for  the  one,  cheering  words  of  hope  for  the 
other, — and  John  B.  Delany  was  the  prince  of  the 
group. 

"The  class  of  '87  was  in  many  ways  a  musical  one 
and  it  needed  a  piano  player.  Such  a  one,  and,  by 
the  way,  the  only  one,  was  found  in  John  Delany. 
To  his  talents  and  patience  and  leadership  was  due 
the  success  of  creating  the  best  class  chorus  in  those 
days.  The  musical  program  of  our  class  reunions 
and  festivities  was  the  feature  of  undergraduates  and 
seniors  to  emulate  us.  As  such  it  seemed  to  draw 
the  bonds  of  fellowship  more  closely  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  class,  and  was  in  no  small  measure  re- 
sponsible for  the  continuance  of  class  reunions  and 
college  spirit  through  succeeding  years. 


10  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

"Beneath  that  quiet  dignity,  which  was  not  by  any 
means  the  least  attractive  charm  in  John  Delany, 
there  was  ever  found  a  deep  and  keen  sense  of  humor. 
His  laugh  was  infectious  in  its  wholesomeness  and 
genuineness.  It  showed  how  many  sided  was  his 
beautiful  life.  It  was  the  custom  of  the  students 
coming  into  Boston  by  train  each  day  at  the  North 
End  of  the  city,  to  meet  and  walk  to  the  college. 
In  the  party  was  a  student  of  mammoth  proportions 
and  another  as  conspicuously  diminutive.  A  dispute 
arose  between  the  two  one  morning  as  we  were  on 
our  way.  The  argument  of  words  seemed  to  be  in- 
effectual in  settling  the  question;  forthwith  the  two 
agreed  to  have  it  out  in  physical  encounter  later  in 
the  day,  and  the  matter  dropped  for  the  time.  The 
future  bishop  of  Manchester,  who  was  one  of  the 
number  that  day,  casually  began  to  relate  the  fable 
of  the  Ant  and  the  Elephant.  He  elaborated  it  so 
well,  gave  such  human  shape  to  the  ant  and  the  ele- 
phant, marking  the  presumption  of  one  and  the  bully- 
ing of  the  other,  showed  how  ridiculously  funny  as 
well  as  unwise  was  the  spectacle  of  such  an  encoun- 
ter, that  all  saw  the  application,  with  the  result  that 
the  giant  and  pigmy  made  up,  shook  hands,  and  were 
fast  friends  ever  after. 

"There  may  have  been  deeper  thinkers  and  more 
profound  writers  in  the  class  than  John  Delany,  some 
reaching  higher  flights  of  imagery,  others  with  occa- 
sional flashes  of  genius,  but  none  more  facile,  none 
more  luminous.  The  Dawn^  a  paper  established  by 
the  class  and  for  a  time  issued  every  month,  had  in 
him  an  editor  of  great  ability.  Out  of  the  success 
which  came  to  us  from  that  little  class  paper  grew 
the  desire  among  the  faculty  and  student  body  of 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  11 

creating1  a  college  paper,  so  was  it  the  Boston  College 
Stylus  came  to  light.  He  was  among1  its  first  con- 
tributors. Scarcely  any  issue  appeared  without  some- 
thing eminently  good  from  his  pen,  and  how  proud 
we  were  to  see  him  in  due  time  becoming  its  editor- 
in-chief. 

"The  evening  before  his  visit  to  the  bishop  of 
Manchester  to  offer  himself  for  adoption,  he  said  to 
me  in  my  own  home,  'Come  with  me  to  Manchester.' 
Had  not  my  adoption  already  been  determined  with 
the  Archbishop  of  Boston,  I  fear  I  would  not  have 
been  found  of  such  heroic  and  apostolic  calibre  as  he 
was  to  break  the  strong1  and  sacred  ties  that  bound 
him  to  kindred  and  associates.  Wondrously  strange 
are  the  ways  of  Divine  Providence." 

The  following1  verses  were  written  by  the  young1 
collegian  about  this  time: 


SHOW   ME   THY   WAY 

God  of  my  waking1  hour, 
Give  me  Thy  marriage  dower. 

Thy  kindly  ray. 
Light  of  the  Heavenly  Dove, 
Bond  of  a  lasting  love, 

Show  me  Thy  way. 

E'en  through  the  darkest  night 
Thy  hand  cans't  guide  aright, 

If  we  obey ; 

My  soul  is  dark  within, 
Chase  thou  the  clouds  of  sin. 

Show  me  Thy  way. 


12  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Free  from  Thy  lasting  wrath 
Keep  these  feet  in  Thy  path, 

Never  to  stray. 
Guard  me  in  deadly  fight, 
Gird  me  with  cause  of  right, 

Show  me  Thy  wr.y. 

I  will  obey  Thy  will 
Though  most  unworthy  still, 

Lighten  my  day. 
Lojd,  I  yield  all  to  Thee, 
Do  what  Thou  wilt  with  me, 

Show  me  Thy  way. 

That  the  young1  man  was  manifesting1  even  in  those 
youthful  years,  the  attributes  of  a  leader  of  men,  is 
evident  from  the  beautiful  tribute  paid  his  memory 
by  one  of  his  teachers,  Father  Colgan,  S.  J.,  then 
a  professor  in  Boston  College. 

"It  was  my  privilege,"  he  says,  "to  be  his  pro- 
fessor in  his  freshman  and  sophomore  years.  It  was 
then  I  learned  to  know,  love,  and  respect  the  youth 
for  his  sterling1  qualities  of  mind  and  heart.  No  place, 
perhaps,  is  more  favorable  for  studying  the  future 
man  than  the  arena  of  college  life.  The  hidden  and 
inner  qualities  of  the  youth  gradually  unfold  them- 
selves to  the  careful  eye  of  the  observing-  teacher, 
who  can  then  study  the  calibre  of  the  boy,  'father  of 
the  man'  to  be.  Young-  Delany  was  a  boy  of  stead- 
fast purpose.  You  always  knew  where  he  stood,  and 
he  always  stood  on  the  side  of  truth  and  justice  and 
principle. 

"He  was  interested  in  what  concerned  the  unity 
and  general  well-being  of  his  class;  and  his  influence, 
though  quiet  and  unobtrusive,  was  potent  in  promot- 
ing and  maintaining  the  esprit  de  corps  which  still 
exists  in  the  class  of  '87. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  13 

"'John  B.,'  as  his  classmates  were  wont  to  desig- 
nate him,  was  an  earnest  student,  gifted  with  a  fine 
literary  taste,  and  having  a  full  appreciation  of  the 
efforts  of  his  masters  to  develop  what  was  best  in 
the  students  through  the  medium  of  Greek  and  Roman 
models,  which  were  assigned  for  study  in  those  years. 
This  reverence  for  his  masters,  a  trait  not  always 
characteristic  of  talent,  was  with  him  a  mental  habit, 
and  to  it  was  due  in  no  small  degree  the  continual  prog- 
ress he  made  in  the  assimilation  of  classic  thought. 
In  manner,  he  was  gentle  and  equable,  not  subject  to 
moods;  he  held  his  impulses  under  wise  control,  but 
was  social  and  sympathetic  withal. 

"Quiet  as  he  was,  he  had  a  quick  sense  of  humor, 
which  he  exercised  on  several  occasions  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  class.  One  such  instance  I  particu- 
larly recall.  It  fell  to  John's  lot  in  his  sophomore 
year  to  record  in  the  class  diary  the  events  of  a  mid- 
year examination  day  in  sight  reading  from  Greek 
authors.  The  lad  who  had  acquired  facility  in  English 
versification,  ventured  to  immortalize  the  heroes  of 
the  occasion — including  the  examiner  —  in  a  three-act 
tragedy  in  English  verse,  which  would  compare  favor- 
ably with  Saxe's  parody  on  Ovid's  'Regia  Solis.'  The 
production,  which  was  read  in  class  the  next  day  by 
the  author,  was  a  literary  treat,  sparkling  with  bril- 
liant flashes  of  wit  and  replete  with  fine  satire. 

"John  never  lost  his  balance  when  things  in  school 
world  went  wrong.  Ulysses-like  he  encountered  the 
unrestrained  Ajax  who  was  bent  on  fomenting  trouble 
in  class  circles.  Even  now  I  can  hear  him  using  his 
favorite  expression  to  some  mate  who  thought  he  had 
a  grievance:  'Bosh!  it  isn't  worth  troubling  yourself 
about!'  Thus,  with  a  word  and  a  wave  of  his  hand 


14  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

he  cleared  away  whatever  seemed  to  threaten  disaster 
to  unity  and  rest.  He  was  a  boy  of  simple,  unaf- 
fected piety,  and  as  I  look  back  now  on  those  youth- 
ful faces  upturned  to  mine  at  morning  lecture,  I 
single  out  Delany  by  his  quiet,  attentive  manner  and 
his  thoughtful  eye,  which  expressed  a  depth  of  soul 
that  must  reveal  itself  in  the  future  in  mastering  the 
larger  problems  of  life.  In  the  light  of  those  days, 
too,  when  he  neither  suffered  himself  to  be  over- 
elated  by  success  nor  discouraged  by  apparent  failure, 
I  can  solve  what  to  many  was  a  mystery  unexplain- 
able,  namely,  the  ease  and  composure  with  which  be 
bore  his  high  honors  as  Chief  of  the  diocese  of  Man- 
chester, to  which  dignity  he  was  called  so  early  in 
his  priestly  life. 

"The  class  of  '87  has  lost  its  best.  Crowley,  Curtis 
Ford,  Kelly,  Quirk — these  went  before  and  bade  him 
welcome,  we  may  be  sure,  to  that  reunion  which  it 
is  our  cherished  hope  that  we,  who  remain,  may  one 
day  meet  all  those  college-day  friends  and  brothers 
in  our  real  Alma  Mater." 

From  his  earliest  years  the  boy  had  been  bent  on 
being  a  priest,  but  so  carefully  had  he  guarded  his 
secret  that  when,  after  his  graduation,  he  announced 
his  purpose  to  family  and  friends,  he  was  surprised 
to  find  them  not  at  all  astonished.  Long  after  his 
ordination,  one  of  his  teachers,  a  Protestant,  told  him 
that  she  had  always  thought  he  belonged  to  God. 
Fond  as  he  was  of  society  and  friends,  of  all  the 
clean  sports  that  manly  youth  enjoys,  there  was  yet 
about  him  a  certain  modesty  of  demeanor,  a  reserve 
of  manner,  a  seriousness  of  purpose  that  marked  him 
as  one  of  God's  own. 

A  few  weeks  after  his  graduation,  accompanied  by 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  15 

Edward  Quirk,  his  classmate  and  lifelong  friend,  he 
called  on  Bishop  Bradley  at  Manchester  and  asked 
for  adoption  to  his  diocese.  This  was  the  first  meet- 
ing of  the  two  who  were  later  to  be  so  closely  united 
in  heart  and  mind,  who  were  to  work  in  such  happy 
union,  and  over  whom  God  had  so  many  special  and 
sacred  designs.  In  later  years  Bishop  Delany  used  to 
tell  of  the  feelings  that  took  possession  of  him  as  he 
told  his  saintly  predecessor  his  intentions  and  made 
his  request.  With  all  the  warmth  of  a  father's  love, 
with  all  the  depth  of  a  shepherd's  tenderness,  Bishop 
Bradley  welcomed  the  candidate  and  from  that  mo- 
ment took  him  to  his  heart  as  his  favored  child. 
He  urged  him  to  go  Paris  to  make  his  ecclesiastical 
studies,  and  accordingly  in  September,  1887,  he  left 
for  the  Seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  that  famous  institu- 
tion wherein  hundreds  of  eminent  ecclesiastics  and  at 
least  two  canonized  saints  have  been  trained  to  theo- 
logical virtue. 

For  some  idea  of  the  trip  crossing  the  Atlantic, 
while  his  heart  and  soul  were  all  aglow  with  the 
desire  and  prospect  of  giving  himself  wholly  to  the 
service  of  God,  we  quote  from  a  hastily  written  jour- 
nal kept  by  him  during  his  days  at  sea: 


16  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


SEMINARY   LIFE 
As  DESCRIBED  IN  LETTERS  TO  His  FAMILY 


LA  BOURGOYNE,  Sept.  21,  1887. 

Dear  Father  and  Mother  and  All  at  Home:— 

Although  two  thousand  miles  at  sea,  no  land  nor 
sign  of  life  beneath  the  dome  of  sky,  my  thoughts 
turn  ever  backwards  to  the  one  dear  little  nook  on 
earth  as  the  magnetic  needle  does  to  the  polar  star. 
Knowing-,  too,  your  thoughts  are  of  me,  you  will  be 
interested,  I  am  sure,  in  a  little  account  of  what  has 
transpired  since  we  parted. 

On  our  arrival  at  Fall  River  we  met  Mr.  Q and 

with  him,  much  to  our  surprise,  was  a  young  priest, 

Father  S ,   who  is  bound    for  Paris  to  enter  the 

Sulpician  order.  The  trip  to  New  York  was  very 
pleasant,  the  music  delightful,  the  accommodations 
first  class,  and  the  weather  all  that  could  be  desired. 
We  arose  early  in  the  morning  to  see  the  beautiful 
sights  of  New  York  harbor,  and  were  well  repaid 
for  the  loss  of  a  few  hours'  sleep.  Our  baggage  at- 
tended to,  we  spent  a  few  hours  sight-seeing,  then 
visited  Fordham  College.  We  had  supper  with  Mr. 

Q who  received  us  very  kindly.    A  few  hours  later 

we  were  installed  in  our  quarters  on  "La  Bour- 
goyne."  For  what  followed  I  will  quote  from  my 
diary. 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  17 

Saturday,  September  17th. 

First  day  out  and  a  glorious  one  it  is.  Spent  last 
night  aboard.  Stateroom  comfortable,  though  occu- 
pied by  four.  Our  companions,  not  in  arms,  but  in 
beds,  are  two  Frenchmen.  One  speaks  no  English, 
the  other,  a  little.  The  first  returns  to  France  to 
serve  the  prescribed  time  in  the  army — a  lot  which 
befalls  every  Frenchman  in  every  part  of  the  world. 
The  other  crosses  for  the  eleventh  time,  at  least  so 
he  says.  For  a  house  warming  we  drank  a  health 
to  "la  belle  France,"  received  a  promise  from  our  new- 
found Boulanger,  and  his  equally  patriotic  friend,  to 
fight  for  Ireland  if  occasion  demanded  it.  A  third 
Frenchman,  who  came  aboard  to  bid  his  friends 
adieu,  grew  so  enthusiastic  on  the  subject  of  "La 
Libert^"  that  he  was  in  danger  of  losing  that  much 
prized  commodity,  at  least  for  the  night.  So  with  a 
spread  eagle  gesture  and  a  fiery  eye  we  bade  our 
new  found  friend  "bon  nuit  et  adieu." 

We  had  left  the  dock  and  had  been  towed  well  out 
to  sea  before  we  reached  deck  in  the  morning.  The 
sun  had  not  yet  risen.  The  yachts  Mayflower,  Vol- 
unteer, and  Thistle,  of  yesterday's  race,  revealed 
their  shapely  outlines,  though  we  were  unable  to 
distinguish  them  at  this  distance.  The  sun  soon 
rose  like  a  great  ball  of  fire,  and  as  we  moved  down 
the  bay  with  scarce  a  perceptible  motion,  the  sun 
and  ourselves  seemed  to  stand  still,  while  the  shore 
scudded  between  us,  a  phenomenon  which  I  never  be- 
fore noticed.  Close  in  our  rear  the  Etruria,  bound 
for  Liverpool,  and  the  Eider,  a  German  steamer, 
bound  for  the  Vaterland,  sent  up  a  column  of  smoke, 
shook  off  their  little  tugs,  as  if  spurning  their  puny 
assistance,  and  steamed  proudly  out  to  sea.  Two 
hours  of  lounging,  and  trying  to  talk  to  our  Na- 


18  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

poleon  XVI.,  then  came  soupe",  which  consisted  of  what 
its  name  purports,  nor  more,  nor  less.  The  pros- 
pect frightened  us,  and  we  contemplated  a  change  to 
the  cabin,  but  breakfast  left  us  in  a  more  contented 
mood.  The  arrangement  for  meals  is  somewhat  pe- 
culiar. We  have  two  "square"  meals  and  three 
"round"  ones,  making  five  in  all.  The  first  at  7.30 
A.  M.,  the  last  at  10  P.  M.  Frenchmen  are  deservedly 
celebrated  cooks.  They  can  cook  a  fish  in  such  a  way 
that  Neptune  himself  could  not  recognize  it.  Will 
know  more  of  their  skill  later  on. 

Took  luncheon  at  1.30,  dinner  at  5,  and  my  dinner 
went  to  the  fishes. 

Miles  covered  up  to  noon,  86. 

Sunday,  September  18th. 

"Beau  ciel"  as  our  "petit  soldat"  expressed  it.  The 
day  has  all  the  loveliness  of  yesterday,  but  the  sea 
is  somewhat  rougher.  No  mass  this  morning,  al- 
though we  have  two  Catholic  priests  aboard,  but 
neither  has  the  necessary  articles.  Lounged  about 
all  day  trying  to  shake  off  sea-sickness,  which  hangs 
close  about  my  neck.  When  rough  weather  comes 
I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do.  All  day  yesterday 
and  to-day  we  have  sailed  directly  east.  The  setting 
sun  throws  our  shadows  just  in  the  direction  of  the 
boat.  The  wind,  also,  has  not  apparently  shifted  a 
single  point.  In  the  afternoon  the  path  over  which 
we  passed  was  fairly  blazoned  with  silver  sunlight. 
Later  the  western  sky  put  on  its  evening  robe  of  yel- 
low and  gold,  the  sun  himself  softened  his  glare  to  a 
rich  mellow,  and  when  he  sank  into  the  west  seemed 
like  a  veritable  golden  gate.  A  sunset  at  sea  must  be 
seen  to  be  appreciated.  As  we  sat  on  the  sheltered 
side  of  the  deck  in  the  dim  twilight  we  could  hear  the 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  19 

steerage  passengers  below,  in  somewhat  harsh,  though 
not  unpleasant  strains,  chanting  the  "Marseillaise." 
The  poor  fellows  are  a  sad  looking  set,  but  they 
look  forward  to  a  glimpse  of  France  as  a  vision  of 
the  promised  land.  With  the  going  down  of  the  sun 
the  air  became  chilly,  and  extra  wraps  would  have 
been  needed,  yet  we  were  loath  to  leave  the  pure 
bracing  air  and  the  dome  of  stars,  which  seemed 
more  numerous  than  ever  before.  We  walked  the 
deck  with  our  little  Frenchman,  and  he  sang  for  us 
his  national  songs.  He  asked  us  to  sing  our  Amer- 
ican national  hymns,  and  we  rendered  "Old  Mother 
Hubbard"  and  "John  Brown's  Injins."  Poor  chap 
does  not  know  a  word  of  English,  so  he  never  knew 
the  difference.  To  hear  us  speak  French  would 
break  your  heart,  and  it  is  well  that  we  are  a  thous- 
and miles  from  shore.  Turned  in  and  slept  soundly 

until 

Monday,  September  19th. 

As  fair  a  day  as  the  preceding  ones.  Stomach  in 
a  somewhat  dubious  condition.  We  are  now  off  the 
Banks  of  Newfoundland.  It  is  a  strange  course  we 
take.  We  sail  North  from  New  York  though  not 
out  of  sight  of  land  until  off  Nova  Scotia  then  almost 
directly  across.  The  route  of  the  ship  is  marked 
on  a  chart,  and  the  distance  shown  by  little  flags. 
We  sighted  several  fishing  smacks  to-day;  near  one 
three  small  dories  danced  up  and  down  on  the  waves 
as  a  bob  on  a  line.  In  the  hollow  of  the  wave  they 
were  completely  hidden  from  view.  The  dreaded 
fogs  so  common  in  these  parts  were  seen  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

We  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Father 
Provincial  of  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Cross,  who  is  on 
his  way  to  Rome.  A  very  learned  man  he  is.  He 


20  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

has  been  in  nearly  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  thinks 
he  will  be  sent  to  India  on  a  mission.  His  bag-gage 
is  a  hand-bag1.  He  keeps  records  of  the  days'  events 
and  sends  them  to  his  school  in  Canada,  where  his 
children — from  five  to  twelve  years  of  age — will  be 
delighted  to  hear  how  "mon  pere"  spends  his  time. 
We  have  plenty  of  occasion  to  study  our  fellow  pas- 
sengers, but  it  is  hardly  charitable,  and  I  doubt  if  it 
would  be  interesting  to  you. 

Another  beautiful  evening1,  another  glorious  sunset, 
another  day  nearer  the  end  of  our  journey,  and  four 
hundred  and  ten  miles  from  home  and  all  the  happy 
haunts  of  boyhood.  But  let  it  pass — I  shall  be  home 
again  in  God's  own  time. 

Tuesday,  September  20tb. 
Sick.     Latitude — don't  know, 
Longitude — don't  care. 

Wednesday,  September  21st. 
Sicker. 

Thursday,  September  22d. 

Sickest. 

Thursday  Night,  September  22nd. 

It  is  now  Thursday  night.  The  circumstances 
under  which  I  write  may  be  of  interest  to  you. 
Well,  Ed.  and  I  are  seated  at  a  good  sized  table  in 
the  dining  salon.  To  our  right  they  are  serving  the 
evening  luncheon,  for  it  is  8.30.  About  a  dozen  French 
men  and  women  are  sipping  their  tea  without  milk 
and  munching  crackers  it  would  take  a  hammer  to 
break.  Not  one  of  the  whole  party  can  speak  English 
and  the  jabbering  they  keep  up  reminds  me  of  the 
gabbling  of  geese.  The  waiters  are  the  embodiment 
of  politeness.  We  have  fared  very  well  with  them, 
and  have  managed  to  demolish  a  considerable  amount 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  21 

of   their   cake.     You    should    see    the  cake,   it  might 
be  called  a  "gastric"  poem. 

The  steamer  "La  Bourgogne"  is  one  of  the  largest 
passenger  boats  afloat.  There  are  about  three  hun- 
dred men  employed  on  it;  one  hundred  are  firemen 
and  the  rest  are  sailors  and  waiters.  There  are 
four  masts  and  two  funnels.  The  boilers  require  a 
ton  of  coal  every  two  minutes  night  and  day.  There 
are  only  about  four  hundred  passengers  on  this  trip. 
The  boat  is  fitted  in  the  best  of  style.  The  state- 
rooms are  comfortable,  still  we  remain  on  deck  as 
much  as  possible.  Yesterday  evening  we  had  a  little 
fog,  and  the  fog  horns  were  used  with  such  a  ven- 
geance that  the  night  was  hideous.  We  walked  the 
deck  and  gazed  on  the  stars;  told  stories  of  home 
until  about  eleven  o'clock,  when  we  went  below  and 
soon  were  "rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep,"  con- 
fidently trusting  that  He  who  holds  the  ocean  in  the 
hollow  of  His  hand  will  not  forget  His  children. 

Friday  night,  September  24th. 

We  are  at  our  old  post  again  in  the  "salon"  and 
we  again  chronicle  the  events  of  the  day,  the  last 
day  of  our  voyage.  We  are  to-night  off  the  coast  of 
Ireland,  but  will  not  see  the  "old  land,"  as  we  are 
now  several  hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  sham- 
rock. If  I  only  had  eyes  like  a  telescope  I  might 
look  right  over  Ballinamore  Bridge,  in  the  County 
Galway,  into  a  fine  slated  house,  upon  a  happy  little 
family  whom  I  think  I  could  recognize.  But  such 
a  sight  is  denied  me,  still,  I  hope  Father  will  yet 
lead  the  way  he  remembers  so  well. 

This  time  to-morrow  we  will  be,  or  expect  to  be, 
in  Havre,  and  four  hours  afterwards  in  Paris.  To- 
day has  been  a  perfect  one.  Early  this  morning  Fr. 


22  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

S awoke  us  to  see  a    beautiful  sight,  a  school  of 

porpoises.  We  hastened  on  deck,  and  there  they 
were  in  thousands  leaping-  out  of  the  water  and  throw- 
ing up  the  spray  on  both  sides  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  This  evening  the  moon  came  out  beautiful 
and  clear,  and  the  sea  is  as  calm  as  Boston  harbor. 
One  man  aboard  says  he  has  not  had  such  fine 
weather  for  a  voyage  in  ten  years.  Is  it  in  answer  to 
your  prayers?  I  will  close  these  notes  to-night  so  that 
I  can  send  them  from  Havre  to-morrow.  They  have 
been  written  in  great  haste  and  under  many  difficul- 
ties. But  since  they  are  just  for  my  dear  ones  at 
home  I  need  not  make  apologies  to  you  who  are  so 
indulgent  in  all  things.  It  is  reluctantly  I  close,  for 
it  is  like  saying  another  good-bye. 


For  a  knowledge  of  what  followed  and  of  the  first 
days  of  the  young  seminarian's  life  we  continue  the 
extracts  from  his  own  diary. 

ISSY,  Oct.  19,  1887. 

It  is  just  a  month  since  the  last  item  in  the  diary; 
yet  this  is  the  diary  that  was  to  contain  a  description 
of  all  the  sights  and  happenings  of  the  days  just 
past.  Well,  I  will  again  open  an  account  between  me 
and  myself  with  the  hope  of  better  results. 

First  of  all,  I  must  go  back,  for  the  days  between 
the  dates  are  by  no  means  as  blank  as  the  interven- 
ing pages.  So,  ere  first  impressions  have  been  cor- 
rected, and  new  found  wonders  have  become  common- 
place, I  shall  jot  them  down.  Someone  at  home  may 
find  them  interesting.  If  so,  I  have  been  amply 
repaid  for  the  time  and  the  labor  spent.  If  not, — 
well,  I  shall  read  them  myself  sometime  for  a  pen- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  23 

ance.  One  thing1  more  before  I  begin.  I  deny  and 
denounce  all  attempts  at  a  literary  effort,  though  this 
effusion  may  become  valuable  as  a  curiosity  in  orthog- 
raphy. 

I  have  already  detailed  at  length  our  way  of  living 
on  shipboard,  and  have  related  the  little  events  that 
occurred  up  to  the  day  of  landing.  We  were  still 
abed  when  we  heard  the  cry  above:  "La  terre,  la 
terre!"  On  reaching1  deck  we  saw  the  rocky  coast 
of  Cornwall  extending  its  fantastic  shape  far  into  the 
channel,  like  a  giant  sea-serpent.  A  little  later  the 
rugged  cliffs  of  the  mainland  lifted  themselves  out  of 
the  water,  and  like  a  lowering  cloud  reached  to  the 
northern  horizon.  It  is  difficult  to  describe  the  emo- 
tion one  feels  at  the  sight  of  land  after  a  sea  voyage. 
Nor  is  the  emotion  peculiar  to  the  first  voyage,  for 
the  sailors,  who,  no  doubt,  saw  these  shores  loom  up 
a  hundred  times,  watched  the  barren  rocks  with  the 
same  pleasurable  excitement  as  any  of  the  passen- 
gers who  crossed  for  the  first  time.  At  sea,  if  any- 
where, one  feels  his  nothingness.  The  expanse  of  sky 
and  water  on  a  fair  day,  compared  to  the  ship  is, 
almost,  as  infinity  brought  against  a  cipher.  But 
change  the  scene — let  darkness  settle  over  the  face 
of  the  deep,  the  lightning  flash,  the  thunder  roll,  the 
great  ship  toss  as  a  chip  in  an  agitated  pool — and 
one's  insignificance  is  overpowering. 

On  the  re-appearance  of  the  land,  however,  man 
again  asserts  his  supremacy  over  the  elements,  and 
the  passing  from  nobody  into  somebody  may  account 
for  the  agreeable  sensation  on  the  cry  of  "  Land, 
ho!" 

While  still  in  sight  of  England  we  took  aboard  a 
pilot.  Though  the  day  was  as  fair  and  the  sea  as 


24  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

calm  as  one  could  wish,  yet  the  little  boat  was  at 
times  fairly  lifted  out  of  the  water.  After  several 
attempts  and  a  considerable  wetting-  the  pilot  was 
taken  up,  and,  heading*  across  the  channel,  we  soon 
lost  sight  of  land.  It  is  fourteen  hours'  journey  from 
the  time  land  is  sighted  until  Havre  is  reached. 
About  eight  in  the  evening  the  bright  beam  of  a  dis- 
tant lighthouse  told  us  we  were  within  sight  of 
France.  From  this  time  until  landing1  the  hours  went 
slowly  by.  Nothing-  could  be  seen  but  now  and  then 
a  light  on  shore.  It  was  midnight  when  we  reached 
the  twin  lights  of  Havre.  Rockets  were  fired  and  the 
"siren"  blown  for  a  signal  from  the  harbor.  At  last 
it  came,  and  we  were  towed  slowly  toward  the  shore. 
The  town  seemed  ablaze  with  lights.  Electric  lights 
of  all  colors,  gas  jets  and  lanterns  in  the  hundreds 
lined  the  wharves  and  extended  far  inland.  It  seemed 
like  a  veritable  Fourth  of  July,  but  we  found  as  we  ap- 
proached that  the  illumination  was  not  for  display 
but  for  use.  The  entrance  is  scarce  wider  than  a 
canal,  and  passes  through  several  bridges.  We  came 
so  close  to  these  that  they  seemed  near  enough  to 
step  upon.  It  was  after  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  we  were  made  fast  to  the  wharf,  yet  we  went 
ashore,  only  just  for  a  moment,  to  touch  again  "terra 
firma"  and  to  greet  "la  belle  France." 


SFMINAIKK  D'  Issv. 

In  America  we  imagine  the  Revolution  to  have  oc- 
curred about  the  time  of  the  Flood,  and  the  Landing 
of  the  Pilgrims  to  have  taken  place  almost  at  the  be- 
ginning of  time.  But  on  this  side  of  the  water  it  is 
different,  for  while  the  American  Revolution  was 
among  the  possibilities,  and  the  Plymouth  Rock  was 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  25 

still  unknown,  this  building  had  existence  and  might 
have  been  considered  old.  The  old  building,  or 
chateau, — there  are  two  new  wings — is  said  to  have 
been  built  by  the  wife  of  Henry  IV.  The  same 
stone  floor  that  we  now  use  once  echoed  to  the  tread 
of  Catherine  de  Medici  and  the  "good"  Queen  Bess. 
I  doubt  not  but  what  this  spot  has  been  hallowed  by 
the  feet  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul,  for  he  was  the  direct- 
or of  M.  Olier,  the  founder  of  the  Sulpicians. 

The  structure  is  two  and  one-half  stories  in  height, 
and  is  built  of  stone,  with  cemented  surface.  Its  moss- 
grown  tiled  roof  seems  to  have  been  pushed  down 
from  above,  and  juts  out  between  the  windows  in  far- 
projecting  eaves.  The  old-fashioned  portal  is  a  mas- 
terpiece of  its  kind.  It  consists  of  two  arches,  each 
surmounted  by  a  cross,  and  between  them  a  statue 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  Child.  Here  the  cement 
has  been  replaced,  and  marks  the  spot  where  several 
persons  were  shot  during  the  Commune.  From  the 
casement  above — there  are  no  windows  in  the  house 
— one  looks  down  upon  the  Rue  Victor  Hugo,  which 
stretches  for  fully  a  mile,  without  a  bend,  through 
a  most  beautiful  country.  Still  further  on  the  Seine 
winds  its  lazy  length  between  the  hills.  Passing 
through  the  portal  into  the  grounds  proper  a  most 
beautiful  prospect  is  opened  up.  Directly  in  front, 
in  the  middle  of  a  fine  avenue  lined  with  hedges  and 
flowers,  is  a  small  fountain ;  in  its  waters  are  gold 
fish,  so  tame  as  to  come  to  a  call.  Beyond,  canopied 
by  a  spreading  elm,  rises  the  figure  of  our  Lady  of 
Mount  Carmel.  To  the  right  and  left  are  vistas,  each 
terminating  with  a  shrine.  Here,  too,  is  a  grotto 
marking  the  spot  where  Fenelon  and  Bossuet  held 
their  memorable  discussion  on  the  rule  of  ascetic  life. 
And  here  begins  a  tunnel  of  several  hundred  yards  in 


26  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

length  that  was  used  for  escape  during1  the  last  Com- 
mune. Passing  under  the  street  and  through  another 
vista  more  beautiful  than  the  ones  just  left,  you  reach 
the  chapel  of  Loretto,  an  exact  fac-simile  of  the 
original,  even  to  a  crack  in  the  wall.  These  are  but 
a  few  of  the  many  shrines  about  the  grounds.  Still 
one  other  must  not  go  unmentioned.  It  has  been 
called,  in  jest  (though  it  might  be  named  so  in  all 
seriousness),  "Notre  Dame  des  Bombs."  The  pe- 
destal, which  is  about  four  feet  high  and  three  feet 
thick,  is  made  wholly  of  cannon  balls  and  bullets 
picked  up  on  the  grounds  after  the  last  war.  The 
figure  of  Our  Lady,  cast  from  the  same  metal,  stands 
upon  a  high  bomb  shell,  as  we  have  seen  her  repre- 
sented standing  above  the  world.  From  this  rising 
ground  a  fine  view  of  the  city  is  obtained.  It  is 
surrounded  by  a  continuous  fortification.  This  is  ac- 
knowledged to  be  a  useless  expenditure  of  energy, 
for  the  enemy  lies  not  without,  but  within  those  walls. 
The  first  object  that  strikes  the  eye  is  the  gilded 
dome  of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  the  tomb  of  Napo- 
leon I.  His  body  lies  under  a  weight  of  a  hundred 
tons — a  precaution  to  prevent  his  devoted  subjects 
throwing  it  into  the  Seine.  To  the  left,  the  Troca- 
dero,  with  its  massive  towers  and  golden  goddess, 
forms  a  striking  picture.  In  front  of  this,  just  above 
the  common  level,  rises  the  base  of  the  new  Tower 
of  Babel,  which  is  being  built  for  the  Exhibition  of 
'89,  and  which  is  expected  to  reach  the  height  of 
1000  feet.  Beyond  is  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  with  its 
record  of  a  hundred  battles.  Still  further  on  another 
line  of  fortifications,  and  then  again  the  country. 
Such  is  a  vague  idea  of  our  retreat,  where 

"Far  from  the  madding  crowd's  ignoble  strife 
We  keep  the  peaceful  tenor  of  our  way." 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  27 

OUR  ROOM. 

I  say  "  our  room  "  because  it  is  occupied  in  com- 
mon with  Mr.  Quirk.  At  first  we  had  separate  and 
modern  rooms,  but  when  a  chance  occurred  for  a 
double  room  we  took  it.  We  are  now  in  the  old 
building,  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  house,  overlooking 
the  park  and  fountain.  The  view  from  the  casement 
is  very  beautiful,  but  the  room  itself  can  hardly  be 
called  so.  Its  dimensions  are  about  20  feet  by  14  feet; 
small  pentangular  tiles  are  used  for  flooring ;  the 
ceiling  is  covered  with  whitewashed  rafters  scarce 
their  own  width  apart ;  a  large  old-fashioned  chimney 
and  fireplace,  two  little  iron  beds,  and  one  small  cup- 
board describes  the  room  as  we  found  it.  We  have, 
however,  made  a  few  additions.  Two  large  mats 
cover  the  stone  and  keep  the  dampness  out;  these, 
with  two  steamer  chairs,  a  few  maps,  two  brass 
coffee  pots,  and  a  roaring  fire,  give  our  apartments  an 
air  of  sumptuousness  which  the  simple  Frenchmen 
here  think  surpassing  fine. 

We  are,  as  you  know,  our  own  chambermaids,  and 
at  the  same  time  landlord  and  office  boy.  The  one 
room  answers  for  parlor,  study,  and  chamber.  For- 
tunately we  have  no  visitors,  or  we  would  have  to  try 
some  of  the  Mikado  tactics.  For  instance,  this  side 
of  the  crack  in  the  wall  would  be  our  parlor,  behind 
the  desk  would  be  our  private  office,  and  over  the  mat 
would  be  our  lodging.  Under  these  circumstances, 
however,  I  fear  the  visitor  would  get  mixed  up.  We 
have  not  yet  decided  who  is  boss  of  the  house,  but 
this  causes  no  inconvenience,  for  Ed  does  as  I  tell 
him  and  I  do  as  I  please.  We  hold  everything  in 
common,  and  have  order  down  so  fine  as  to  humbly 
ask,  in  the  words  of  our  old  friend,  "  May  we  come 
out  from  under  our  bed?" 


28  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Nearly  every  Frenchman  has  a  little  teapot  in  his 
room,  with  which,  old-maid  like,  he  makes  his  even- 
ing1 potation.  We  are  not  behind  in  this  respect,  and 
have  two  little  brass  coffee  pots,  and  serve  the  steam- 
ing beverage  at  three  minutes'  notice.  "  Chocolat  " 
is  very  commonly  used.  We  get  no  warm  drink 
for  dinner  or  supper,  and  so  this  little  draught  goes 
very  well.  

OUR  WALKS. 

We  have  but  one  holiday,  properly  so  called,  in 
the  whole  year,  and  that  is  the  second  of  January. 
Every  Wednesday,  however,  we  have  a  walk  and 
visit  some  places  of  interest  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris. 
Sometimes  it  is  the  woods  of  Boulogne,  a  beautiful 
park  of  hundreds  of  acres;  sometimes  a  bury  ing- 
ground;  then  a  castle,  and  occasionally  a  monastery. 
After  reaching  our  destination  we  have  a  scatter  for 
about  an  hour,  during  which  time  the  walk  is  divided 
in  groups  of  threes  or  fours  who  recite  the  office  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin.  Part  of  this  is  to  be  said  kneel- 
ing, and  it  looks  strange  at  first  sight  to  see  these 
little  groups  kneeling-  here  and  there  all  over  the 
grounds.  On  the  walk  home  the  rosary  is  said.  The 
sight  of  such  a  number  of  ecclesiastics  is  by  no 
means  uncommon,  and  in  passing1  along  the  street  it 
is  totally  ignored  or  scoffed  at.  By  the  roadside  are 
dozens  of  beggars,  mostly  cripples,  old  hags  and 
ragged  children.  I  saw  a  poor  fellow,  who  had  but 
one  leg  and  neither  a  crutch  nor  a  cane;  he  hopped 
down  the  road  after  us,  bare  headed  and  squalid, 
and  it  seemed  every  moment  as  if  he  would  fall.  To 
avoid  these  annoyances  each  seminarian  gives  a  sou 
or  more  to  the  almoner,  who  distributes  the  sum  to 
the  wayside  unfortunates.  Some  interesting  stories 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  29 

are  told  of  these  adventurers — they  are  no  less — with 
stray  ecclesiastics  who  happen  into  a  rough  part  of 
the  city.  If  they  escape  a  beating  they  consider 
themselves  fortunate.  However,  it  is  said,  if  a  per- 
son speaks  English  he  escapes  many  insults  to  which 
the  poor  Frenchmen  are  subjected.  The  reason  is 
that  every  English  speaking-  person,  especially  Amer- 
icans, are  thought  to  carry  knives  and  revolvers, 
and  those  who  offer  the  insults  are  the  greatest 
cowards.  We  have  experienced  no  unpleasantness 
beyond  being  crowed  at  by  some  little  ones  who  shout 
"caw,  caw,  caw."  Of  course  these  are  in  no  way  to 
blame,  for  they  have  but  learned  the  lesson  from  their 
elders.  The  only  reason  why  things  are  so  is  because 
the  very  sight  of  these  unoffending  and  holy  men  is  a 
reproach  to  wickedness  which  its  devotees  cannot 
withstand. 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Issy,  pres  Paris, 

April  2,  1888. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

Let  this  be  your  letter;  yet  I  doubt  if  such,  or  any 

proof  of  my  remembrance  be  needed.     K 's  letter 

arrived  safely,  and  the  good  news  it  carries  is  always 
a  source  of  pleasure  for  me.  May  it  be  so  in  the 
years  to  come.  The  papers  were  received,  and  the 
amusement  they  furnished  was  in  good  time. 

Lent  is  over  and  I  know  you  would  like  to  hear  how 
we  kept  the  holy  season.  Pretty  much  as  at  home, 
except  every  Saturday  was  a  fast  day  and  the  last 
Thursday  with  the  rest.  Our  ordinary  breakfast,  the 
whole  year  round,  would  be  considered  good  fasting, 
for  it  consists  of  a  kind  of  soup,  or  coffee  and  bread 
if  you  pay  five  cents  extra.  The  only  retrenchment 
we  could  make  on  this  was  to  go  without  it,  which 


30  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

we  did  for  a  short  time.  The  rest  of  the  fasting  was 
fasting-  from  meat,  that  is  about  all.  We  have  had 
beans  in  all  shapes,  except  in  the  inimitable  and  never- 
to-be-forgotten  k  la  mode  Boston.  We  are  on  intimate 
terms  with  macaroni,  and  know,  if  not  the  name,  at 
least  the  taste  of  every  vegetable  from  a  cabbage 
down  to  grass.  But,  for  all  this,  you  must  not  think 
we  fare  badly,  for  these  dishes  are  made  very  palat- 
able, and  more  than  once  I  have  surprised  myself  in 
the  middle  of  a  very  hearty  meal  on  my  old  enemies. 
I  think,  on  the  whole,  that  the  fast  is  as  well  observed 
in  America  as  here.  The  Holy  Week  services  were 
the  same  as  at  home,  except  that  a  hundred  and  fifty 
seminarians  made  up  the  choir  and  congregation.  On 
Palm  Sunday  we  had  a  very  imposing  procession 
around  the  grounds.  The  ceremony  of  knocking  on 
the  church  door  with  the  Cross,  and  demanding  ad- 
mission in  the  name  of  Christ,  is  certainly  very  im- 
posing; it  is  a  part  of  the  liturgy  for  this  Sunday.  On 
the  last  days  of  the  week  we  had  Tenebrae,  and  the 
watch  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament  all  during  the 
night.  Easter  came,  and,  as  with  Christmas,  we 
scarcely  knew  our  old  friend.  The  weather  was  fine, 
the  joy  was  general,  but  there  was  something  wanting 
to  make  the  day  complete.  We  could  hardly  tell  what 
it  was.  Perhaps  it  was  the  dear  familiar  faces  and 
the  accustomed  hearty  greetings,  that  are  prized  too 
late,  and  their  loss  is  more  keenly  felt  on  occasions 
like  these.  Perhaps  it  was — oh  !  prosaic  thought — the 
missing  ham  and  eggs  ;  for  this  feature  of  Easter  was 
conspicuous  by  its  absence.  After  Easter  come  the 
Grande  Conges,  or  full  holidays.  These  will  put  spurs 
to  time,  and  carry  us  quickly  on  to  vacation.  The  first 
one  will  be  to-morrow,  and  all  look  forward  to  it  as  a 
kind  of  Fourth  of  July.  The  seminarians  come  from 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  31 

Paris,  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  ;  these,  with  our 
one  hundred  and  fifty,  will  make  things  lively.  Mr. 
Quirk  has  received  a  baseball  from  home,  and  we 
expect  to  have  a  game.  If  we  would  be  allowed  to 
take  off  the  cassock  we  would  have  a  fine  baseball 
suit:  knee  breeches,  low  shoes,  etc.,  but  the  very 
thought  of  such  a  thing  would  shock  a  Frenchman 
to  death,  though  in  other  things  they  are  by  no  means 
sensitive.  With  their  idea  of  propriety,  I  am  afraid 
the  ball  game  will  be  somewhat  tame. 

But  to  return  to  our  keeping  of  Holy  Week.  On 
Tuesday  we  visited  Notre  Dame.  It  would  be  useless 
to  attempt  a  description.  You  have  the  photograph, 
and  this  will  give  the  best  idea  of  the  place.  Our 
visit,  however,  was  not  one  of  curiosity  or  of  idle  sight- 
seeing, but  one  of  devotion  and  reverence  for  this 
deeply-hallowed  spot.  There  is  a  treasury  connected 
with  the  church,  and  here  are  shown  church  orna- 
ments and  saintly  relics  representing  all  the  periods 
of  the  Church's  history.  The  vessels  used  by  Char- 
lemagne, the  gifts  of  St.  Louis,  vestments  given  by 
Marie  Antoinette,  the.  coronation  robes  of  Napoleon, 
and  the  simple  garb  of  his  saintly  prisoner,  Pius  VII. 
are  all  to  be  seen.  Here,  too,  are  the  ghastly  me- 
morials of  three  bloody  crusades  against  man  and 
God,  that  of  three  revolutions.  Among  these  are  the 
pierced  and  blood-stained  cassocks  of  three  arch- 
bishops. The  ornaments  and  vestments  are  most 
costly  and  complete,  representing,  no  doubt,  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  dollars.  The  relics  have 
another  worth,  and,  though  not  weighed  in  the  sordid 
balance  of  this  world's  goods,  are  far  above  their 
price.  It  was  not  even  these  we  came  to  see,  but  it 
was  to  venerate  the  instruments  of  the  passion  of 
our  Divine  Lord  ;  not  to  look  upon  the  bejewelled 


32  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

diadem  of  a  prince  of  this  earth,  but  to  behold  the 
self-same  crown  of  thorns  that  pierced  the  head  of 
the  King  of  Glory.  Instead  of  a  sceptre  we  saw  a 
nail,  and  a  piece  of  the  Cross  recalled  the  throne  that 
was  erected  on  Calvary.  These  precious  treasures 
were  discovered  at  Jerusalem  by  St.  Helena,  and  their 
genuineness  was  attested  by  many  miracles.  A  short 
time  after  they  were  found  they  were  brought  to 
France  with  great  solemnity  and  deposited  in  a 
beautiful  chapel  built  for  their  reception  by  Saint 
Louis.  During  the  many  storms  that  have  passed 
over  the  city  since  that  time  they  have  been  miracu- 
lously preserved,  and  are  exposed  to  the  veneration  of 
the  faithful  during  Holy  Week.  At  other  times 
during  the  year  their  whereabouts  are  unknown, 
except  to  the  faithful  who  guard  them  with  their  lives. 
The  thorns  have  been  taken,  one  by  one,  from  the 
crown,  and  at  different  times  given  to  the  various 
churches  throughout  the  world,  so  that  nothing 
remains  but  the  twisted  branches,  and  these  are 
coyered  with  glass  and  bound  in  gold.  The  nail  is 
affixed  to  the  centre  of  a  large  cross,  and  is  protected 
in  the  same  way  as  the  crown  ;  it  is  about  the  length 
of  a  finger,  and  looks  cruel  indeed.  The  piece  of  the 
Cross  is  about  6  x  \%  x  1^  inches.  We  were  allowed 
to  kiss  the  encasement  of  each  sacred  article. 

While  I  have  been  writing  this,  my  dear  mother,  we 
have  received  a  rather  distinguished  visitor — the  Holy 
Ghost.  Not,  however,  the  Third  Person  of  the  Blessed 
Trinity,  but  a  director  of  the  house  who  makes  an 
official  visit  on  this  day,  giving  the  "calls."  It  is  for 
this  reason  he  has  received  his  title,  for  he  tells  the 
seminarians  who  are  to  receive  orders  from  the 
Tonsure  to  the  Priesthood.  We  were  fortunate 
enough  to  be  among  the  number,  and,  if  nothing 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  33 

happens,  will  receive  our  first  order,  Tonsure,  on  the 
Saturday  before  Trinity  Sunday.  By  the  way,  there 
are  two  or  three  men  in  the  class  that  the  Bishop  will 
find  it  difficult  to  get  any  of  their  hair  to  cut,  for  they 
are  even  more  bald  than  Ben  Butler. 

The  fine  weather  here  makes  us  think  of  the  ap- 
proaching- summer,  and  its  coming-  holidays  are  anx- 
iously awaited.  We  expect  as  "the  wanton  lapwing 
gets  himself  another  crest,"  that  our  crest  will  be 
the  neglected  "beavers."  Although  a  tall  hat  is  not 
the  regulation  article  for  climbing  mountains,  still  it 
will  be  hard  on  us  if  we  cannot  work  it  in  one 
way  or  another.  We  have  not  determined  on  a  pro- 
gram for  the  summer  as  yet,  for  we  have  the  em- 
barrassment of  choice.  Most  of  the  English  speaking 
fellows  go  to  the  seaside  in  Normandy,  for  at  least 
a  short  stay.  They  wear  the  cassock  all  the  time, 
and  it  is  needless  to  say,  are  thus  deprived  of  the 
pleasures  of  the  roller-coaster,  flying  horses,  etc., 
etc.,  dissipations  so  freely  indulged  in  at  our  fash- 
ionable watering  places  in  America.  They  stop  with 
some  old  French  cur<£  in  a  little  town  by  the  sound- 
ing sea,  take  a  pinch  of  snuff  when  asked,  and 
let  the  old  fellow  beat  in  a  game  of  chess.  Another 
way  to  pass  these  days  is  at  a  convent  on  the  coast, 
where  the  fare  is  good  and  the  rate  is  reasonable, 

Mr.  P ,  the  third  seminarian  for  our  diocese,  did 

this  last  year  and  found  it  most  pleasant  and  the 
Sisters  very  kind  and  considerate.  We  have  almost 
settled  to  first  visit  Lourdes,  and  then  go  to  Switzer- 
land for  a  few  weeks.  The  mountain  scenery  in  this 
country  is  the  most  famous  and  most  beautiful  in 
the  world.  *******  * 

But  I  am  drawing  this  letter  out  too  far,  and  I  beg 
you  to  forgive  this  conglomeration  of  events     *     *     * 


34  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Good-bye  for  awhile  *  *  *  *  Love  to  Father 
and  all  at  home,  and  to  yourself,  Mother  dear,  from 

Your  dutiful  son, 

JOHN. 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Issy,  prbs  Paris, 

June  27,  1888. 
My  dear  Sister : 

Several  of  your  letters  remain  to  be  answered. 
The  reason  is  that  the  examinations  have  intervened, 
and  left  me  little  spare  time.  All  are  over  now,  the 
year's  work  is  finished,  happily  and  successfully, 
thank  God,  and  I  hope  the  remaining  ones  may  end 
likewise.  Glad  to  hear  all  are  well  ***** 
It  looks  now  as  if  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  get 
to  Lourdes  this  summer.  Tommie  will  not  be  more 
disappointed  at  this  than  I  am.  For  many  reasons 
I  feel  it  is  better  to  wait  until  I  am  ordained,  if  God 
so  wills,  and  then  I  can  say  one  of  my  first  Masses 
there.  There  is  another  shrine  of  our  Lady  of 
Chartres,  about  seventy-five  miles  from  here,  to  which 
some  of  the  seminarians  make  a  pilgrimage  on  foot. 

This  Mr.  Q and   myself  intend   to   do  about  the 

first  of  August.  Hope  this  will,  in  some  measure, 
make  up  for  our  disappointment  in  not  going  to 
Lourdes.  ******** 

This  will  be  the  last  opportunity  I  will  have  to 
write  at  length  before  starting  on  my  trip.  The 
term  closes  on  Thursday  next,  and  while  I  write  all 
the  things  are  piled  up  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
We  intend  to  wait  for  the  ordination  of  one  of  our 
friends,  which  will  take  place  at  the  Foreign  Missions 
on  the  8th  of  July. 

We  have  not  fully  settled  our  route  of  travel,  but 
think  we  will  go  to  Switzerland,  stopping  at  places  of 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  35 

interest  such  as  Fontainebleau,  where  Pius  VII.  was 
confined  by  Napoleon,  and  then  to  the  great  monas- 
teries of  La  Trappe  and  of  Chartreuse.  I  will  keep 
an  account  of  my  ramblings  and  send  it  home.  I  use 
the  word  "rambling"  for  that  is  what  we  are  going 
to  do.  We  are  only  going  to  take  a  grip-sack,  sack- 
coats  and  flannel  shirts,  and  rough  it  for  a  part  of 
the  time  at  least.  *****  gav  a 
special  prayer  for  me  during  the  vacation.  Love  to 
Father,  Mother,  and  each  one  at  home,  and  give  a 
big  share  to  my  Baby. 

Your  fond  brother, 

JOHN. 

Before  the  account  of  his  ramblings  were  noted, 
there  is  a  hastily  penned  article  written  in  his  diary 
on  the  subject  of  Foreign  Missions,  which  reveals 
the  spirit  of  zeal  that  even  at  this  early  period  of  his 
life  burned  in  his  own  apostolic  heart.  It  reads  as 
follows:  "To-day  I  have  seen  the  foreign  missionaries 
leave  for  their  fields  of  labor.  May  the  memory  never 
grow  dim;  for  such  a  sight  in  prosperity  will  temper 
joy,  in  adversity  it  will  lighten  sorrow,  and  at  all 
times  it  will  restore  or  awaken  confidence!  The 
departure  of  the  missionaries  is  always  looked  for- 
ward to  with  much  interest,  and  no  one  misses  the 
opportunity  to  attend  the  exercises.  The  consequence 
is,  that  we,  the  students,  must  go  in  alphabetical 
order,  and  my  initial  placed  me  among  the  first  to 

attend.  Mr.  Q was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a 

place  with  us  and  so  we  went  together. 

"A  long  walk  of  almost  an  hour  brought  us  well  into 
the  middle  of  Paris,  and  to  the  Seminaire  des  Mis- 
sionaire  Etrangers.  Once  inside  its  solemn  porch, 
the  bustle  and  noise  of  the  city  ceases  and  the  placid 


36  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

quietude    of    a    sanctuary    pervades  the  place.      The 
building1  is  a  massive  stone  structure  five  stories  high 
and  flanking  on  two  sides  a  neat  little  park.     To  the 
left  of  the  main  entrance  is  the  Salle  des  Martyrs,  a 
room   devoted   to  the  relics    of   their   martyred   ones. 
The    room    is  about  25x25  feet,  and   the    four    walls 
with  their  cabinets  are  covered  with  the  insignias  of 
death  and    torture,   the    thorny  path   in   which   these 
holy  men  follow  their  Master  up  to  heaven.      Their 
martyrs  number  hundreds,  and   hundreds  still  await 
their  turn  with   impatience,  when   they,  too,  may  lay 
down  their  lives  for  the  Faith.     In  the  cases  around 
the  room  are  the  crosiers  and  vestments  of  several 
bishops    and    apostolic    delegates  who    met   death    in 
India,  China,  and  the  remote  East.     Here,  too,  are  the 
knife,  fork,  and  spoon  of  some  poor  missionary,   the 
patched  and  ragged  handkerchief  of  another,  the  well 
worn  breviary,  the  piece  of  coarse  habit,  the  chalice, 
the    rosary    of  others.      Beside  these  are    the    ropes 
with  which  forty  martyrs  were  strangled,  the  chains 
with  which  they  were  bound,   cotton    saturated   with 
the  precious  blood,  a  strip  of  carpet  upon  which  one 
holy  man   was  hacked   to  pieces;   the   death   sentence 
of  another  written  in  Chinese  characters  upon  a  board 
which  is  driven  into  the  ground  before  the   victim ;  a 
bloody  scimitar    near  this    shows    how  faithfully  the 
sentence  was  executed.      Here    is  the  awful  rack,  a 
consummation    of    Chinese    diabolical     ingenuity.      It 
consists    of    two    sticks  about  eight    feet    in    length, 
placed   seven  inches    apart,   with   two  braces    in    the 
middle  and  one  at  each  end.     The  braces  in  the  mid- 
dle fit  about  the  neck  of  the  unfortunate,  and   those 
at  the    ends    serve  as  handles  for  the   executioners. 
A    hundred    different    torments,    such  as  only  Satan 
could  devise,   can  be  accomplished   by   this  machine. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  37 

The  end  is  usually  the  wrenching-  of  the  head  from 
the  body.  Such  are  the  treasures  these  men  seek  in 
the  Orient.  When  weighed  before  God,  these  poor 
little  scraps  will  be  far  more  precious  than  the  finest 
gold  or  fairest  jewels  that  are  found  in  the  same 
sacred  spot.  "Pis  here  the  future  martyrs  learn  how 
to  suffer  and  how  to  die. 

"At  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  exer- 
cises began.  First,  a  large  Chinese  bell  was  struck 
with  a  hammer,  and  this  summoned  us  to  the  lower 
end  of  the  garden,  to  a  beautiful  little  chapel  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin.  The  bell  is  about  five  feet  high,  and 
was  brought  from  China.  It  is  struck  only  on  occa- 
sions like  this.  The  chapel  is  made  of  lattice  work, 
and  is  sexangular  in  shape,  having  four  of  its  sides 
open.  It  is  dedicated  to  Regina  Confessorum  and 
Regina  Martyrum.  The  statue  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
stands  above  a  hundred  candles  on  a  beautiful  altar. 
The  antependium  was  red,  such  as  is  used  in  the 
service  for  martyrs,  and  bore  for  symbols  the  rack 
and  scimitar.  Within  the  little  chapel  the  ten  mis- 
sionaries knelt,  without  there  were  at  least  three 
hundred  ecclesiastics.  They  first  sang  a  farewell 
song  in  French,  those  outside  singing  each  alternate 
verse.  I  could  only  catch  a  few  words:  'Adieu,  mon 
cher,  &  la  mort,'  'Farewell,  my  love,  until  death.' 
Those  within  the  chapel  then  sang  a  kind  of  litany,  in 
which  they  invoked  three  times  'Regina  Apostol- 
orum '  and  twice  '  Regina  Confessorum  and  Regina 
Martyrum.'  After  this  they  solemnly  intoned  the 
'Sub  tuum  praesidium,'  or,  'We  fly  to  thy  patron- 
age,' and  their  voices  rose  like  incense  on  the  chilly 
air  of  this  November  afternoon. 

"  The  exercises  in   the  large  chapel  then  followed, 
and  these  were  more   impressive,  if    such    could    be 


38  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

possible,  than  the  preceding  ones.  The  body  of  the 
church  was  filled  with  ecclesiastics  of  all  orders ; 
behind  an  iron  grating1  in  the  rear  were  the  nuns  and 
a  few  favored  lay  people  ;  above  these  were  two  galler- 
ies, the  first  was  filled  with  friends  of  the  mission- 
aries, and  the  second  was  occupied  by  a  choir  of  male 
voices.  A  sermon  was  preached  by  a  venerable  old 
priest,  who  dwelt  upon  the  holiness  of  their  vocation, 
their  apostolic  spirit,  their  martyred  predecessors,  and 
their  crucified  Lord.  After  the  sermon  they  advanced 
and  stood  upon  the  lowest  altar  step,  facing  the  people. 
It  was  at  this  time  we  obtained  our  best  view  of  them. 
They  were  ten  in  number,  and  apparently  between 
thirty  and  thirty-five  years  of  age.  Nearly  all  were 
above  the  ordinary  height,  well  proportioned,  and 
handsome.  All  had  full  beards,  some  thin,  just  re- 
vealing the  oval  outline  of  their  lower  features,  and  as 
they  stood  for  a  moment  motionless,  with  their  arms 
crossed  upon  their  breasts,  their  jet  black  locks 
brushed  back  from  their  broad,  noble  foreheads,  their 
large  meek  eyes  downcast,  they  looked  for  all  the 
world,  as  we  have  seen  represented,  their  sanctified 
predecessors,  St.  Francis  Xavier  and  St.  Vincent  de 
Paul.  This  physical  perfection  of  the  missionaries  is 
attained  and  preserved  by  a  course  of  training,  exer- 
cise, and  diet,  and  only  the  strongest  men  are  chosen 
for  this  work. 

"While  they  stood  upon  the  altar  step  the  long  train 
of  ecclesiastics  filed  up  before  them,  and  each  one  knelt 
and  kissed  their  feet,  then  rising,  gave  an  embrace 
peculiar  but  common  to  these  parts.  It  consists  of 
placing  your  left  cheek  against  theirs,  and  then  the 
right.  Each  one  whispered  to  us  as  we  passed  some 
parting  word,  as,  'Priez  pour  moi,'  'Adieu,  mon 
ami' — 'Pray  for  me,'  'Good-bye,  my  friend.'  When 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  39 

some  dear  friend  gave  this  last  embrace  it  was  touch- 
ing- to  see  the  affectionate  clasp,  but  they  always 
parted  with  a  smile,  while  those  about  could  not 
repress  a  tear. 

"During  this  time  the  choir  sang  a  canticle  and 
psalms  most  appropriate  for  such  an  occasion.  After 
each  stanza  those  in  the  body  of  the  church  added  the 
refrain,  '  Going  into  the  world,  teach  all  nations. ' 
Thus  the  choir  sang  '  He  hath  raised  up  a  horn  of 
salvation  to  us  in  the  house  of  David  his  servant. ' 
The  people,  'Going  then  into  the  world,  teach  all 
nations.'  The  choir,  'And  thou,  child,  shalt  be  called 
a  prophet  of  the  Highest,  for  thou  shalt  go  before  the 
face  of  the  Lord  to  prepare  His  ways.'  The  people, 
'Going  then,  etc.'  The  choir,  'To  give  knowledge 
of  salvation  to  His  people,  unto  the  remission  of  their 
sins.  '  The  people,  '  Going  then,  etc. '  The  choir, 
'To  enlighten  them  that  sit  in  darkness  and  in  the 
shadow  of  death  ;  to  direct  our  feet  into  the  way  of 
peace. ' 

"This  ceremony  over,  Benediction  was  given  by  the 
Vicar  Apostolic  of  Siam.  In  the  presence  of  the 
Blessed  Sacrament  the  missionaries  knelt,  and,  in- 
voking their  crucified  Lord,  the  Queen  of  Martyrs,  St. 
Peter,  Prince  of  the  Apostles,  and  St.  Francis  Xavier, 
Apostle  of  the  Indies,  they  made  a  solemn  promise 
to  perform  the  mission  intrusted  to  them.  With 
Benediction  the  exercises  closed  and  the  people  dis- 
persed. 

"On  their  way  to  the  station  the  little  band  was 
followed  by  a  large  crowd  eager  to  receive  their 
parting  blessing.  Mothers  brought  their  children, 
the  sick  and  the  lame  dragged  themselves  to  the 
spot  where  they  knew  the  missionaries  would  pass, 
and  prince  and  beggar  alike  esteemed  their  last 
benediction. 


40  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

"After  contemplating-  such  heroic  devotion,  who 
would  say  that  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of 
the  Faith  asks  too  much  in  the  few  pennies  it  re- 
ceives from  the  faithful?" 

The  memory  of  the  Foreign  Missionaries  never  grew 
dim  in  the  years  that  followed,  for  they  made  an  in- 
delible impression  that  day  upon  the  heart  and  soul 
of  the  young  seminarian.  In  after  life  he  was  often 
heard  to  say  that  it  would  have  been  his  delight  to 
labor  in  distant  lands,  and  that  it  would  be  deepest 
solace  for  him  to  work  among  those  "who  sit  in  dark- 
ness and  in  the  shadow  of  death."  But  God  was  fit- 
ting him  for  labor  elsewhere,  and  he  resigned  himself 
to  what  he  knew  to  be  His  will. 

In  July  of  this  same  year  he  says  in  one  of  his 
letters,  "You  may  be  somewhat  surprised  that  this 
letter  is  dated  from  Paris,  although  it  is  the  17th-  of 
July.  Well  at  the  close  of  the  term  the  weather  was 
too  cold  to  go  either  to  the  mountains  or  to  the  sea- 
shore, and  as  we  had  considerable  to  arrange  we  put 
up  in  town  with  the  lady  of  whom  I  spoke  in  my  ac- 
count of  New  Year's  Day.  The  place  is  quite  removed 
from  the  busy  part  of  the  city  and  there  are  six  or 
eight  other  ecclesiastics  in  the  house.  The  lady  is  very, 
very  kind  and  thoughtful,  and  the  place  is  the  nearest 
to  home  that  we  could  have  possibly  found.  We  have 
passed  the  time  in  sight  seeing,  for  during  the  nine 
months  of  seminary  life  we  see  no  more  of  Paris  than 
you  who  are  so  far  away.  Many  of  the  common  sights 
of  the  city  we  did  not  see  until  now.  We  have  wit- 
nessed the  celebration  of  the  14th  of  July,  which  f£te 
corresponds  to  our  4th.  The  principal  features  were 
a  review  of  about  fifty  thousand  soldiers  and  an  illum- 
ination of  the  city.  The  latter  far  surpasses  anything 
of  the  kind  in  America,  but  the  fire-works  are  inferior 
to  ours  for  they  did  not  have  a  single  set  piece.  The 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  41 

celebration  was  very  quiet — very  different  from  the 
bedlam  of  our  Fourth.  We  saw,  perhaps,  the  only 
attempt  at  any  disturbance.  In  the  Place  de  la  Concorde 
there  are  several  statues  representing-  the  different 
provinces  of  France.  Among-  these  is  one  of  Alsace 
Lorraine,  the  province  taken  by  Germany  in  the  last 
war.  While  all  the  others  were  gaily  festooned  this 
one  was  draped  in  mourning  and  guarded  by  a  com- 
pany of  police.  As  we  stood  looking  at  the  statue,  a 
small  party  of  Boulangists  made  a  rush  for  it,  but 
were  repelled  without  difficulty  by  the  police.  The 
strangest  part  of  the  celebration  was  that  there  was 
dancing-  all  night  in  the  middle  of  the  roads  of  the 
principal  boulevards,  sometimes  to  the  music  of  a  hand 
organ  and  sometimes  to  the  rasping-  of  an  old  fiddler 
perched  upon  a  barrel-head  in  a  convenient  corner. 
The  fire-works  were  sent  off  from  the  great  tower 
that  is  being  built  for  the  Exposition  of  next  year, 
and  which  is  already  an  enormous  height." 

For  an  idea  of  this  first  vacation  in  Europe,  some 
details  from  the  seminarian's  own  diary,  written  from 
day  to  day  as  he  journeyed  on,  often  amidst  many 
difficulties,  cannot  but  be  interesting  and  instructive. 

July,  1888.  There  are  many  ways  of  making  a 
trip  through  Switzerland;  on  foot,  by  rail,  pay  as  you 
go,  or  go  as  you  pay.  We  chose  the  last.  It  may 
seem  a  little  paradoxical,  but  it  simply  means  that 
we  bought  a  round  trip  ticket  and  of  course  had  to 
go  as  we  paid.  Our  ticket  included  Paris,  Bile,  Lu- 
cerne, Interlaken,  Berne,  Lausanne,  Geneva,  and 
Paris. 

PARIS  TO  BALE. 

A    sudden   change  in  arrangements   gave    me    Mr. 

H for  a  traveling  companion  instead  of  Mr.  Quirk 

who  decided  to  make  the  trip  in  the  Fall  on  his  way 


42  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

to  Austria.  A  more  genial  fellow  than  this  friend  of 
mine  could  not  be  found.  On  nearly  all  subjects  we 
are  a  unit  and  my  only  fear  is,  that  the  law  of  mating 
unlikes  not  being  observed,  it  may  result  in  some 
unforeseen  complications. 

The  few  of  our  friends  remaining  in  town  came 
with  us  as  far  as  the  "Gare  de  Test"  to  wish  us  God- 
speed and  give  us  a  "college  send  off."  This  latter 
part  of  the  program  had  to  be  dispensed  with,  as 
the  bulky  form  of  the  railroad  guard  interposed  and 
demanded  tickets  of  the  whole  party  or  no  admission 
to  the  enclosure.  So  with  a  quiet  good-bye  we  took 
our  places  in  the  train.  We  were  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  a  compartment  with  but  two  others — a 
very  desirable  arrangement  on  a  night  trip,  for  it 
gives  a  chance  to  sleep.  After  a  few  words  in  French, 
one  of  our  neighbors  asked  us  in  the  plainest  Yankee 
dialect,  from  what  part  of  America  we  came.  The 
other,  arriving  a  few  minutes  later,  began  some  in- 
quiries in  French  but  soon  dropped  it  for  his  mother- 
tongue,  which  revealed  him  to  be  an  Englishman. 
This  was  an  additional  good  fortune,  and  before  the 
train  had  started  we  had  become  fast  friends.  When 
the  conversation  began  to  flag  and  night  had  shut 
out  from  view  the  beautiful  country  through  which 
we  passed,  we  made  ourselves  as  comfortable  as 
possible  under  the  circumstances,  and  were  soon  in 
the  land  of  Nod. 

The  first  gray  streaks  of  dawn  revealed  to  our 
sleepy  eyes  a  considerable  change  in  the  country 
through  which  we  passed.  At  first  it  became  undu- 
lating, and  later  rose  in  well  defined  hills.  A  short 
time  after  we  passed  the  enormous  fortifications  of 
the  French  frontier.  These  were  mostly  earth-works, 
raised  to  a  great  height,  and  many  of  them  planted 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  43 

with  forests.  While  yet  the  moon  held  her  own 
against  the  encroaching1  day  we  breakfasted  at  a 
little  station  on  the  roadside.  The  fare  was  plain 
and  wholesome,  and  a  good  sample  of  a  Swiss  break- 
fast. It  consisted  of  coffee,  bread,  cheese,  and  honey. 
This,  after  the  luncheon  furnished  by  our  thought- 
ful hostess  at  Paris,  filled  up  pretty  well  the  void 
made  by  the  night.  Another  hour  brought  us  to 
Bile  or  Basel,  by  which  latter  name  it  is  known  to 
its  inhabitants.  Here  commenced  the  trouble  of  Babel; 
German,  French,  and  English  all  talking  at  the  same 
time. 

Bile  is  situated  in  the  northwestern  part  of  Swit- 
zerland, and  is  the  capital  of  its  canton,  with  a  popu- 
lation of  about  seventy  thousand  people.  It  was  here 
we  caught  the  first  g-limpse  of  the  Rhine,  beautiful 
as  a  dream  and  hallowed  by  song  and  story.  At 
this  point  it  winds  from  out  interminable  hills,  and 
in  a  half  circle  sweeps  through  the  town.  It  is 
about  two  hundred  yards  in  width,  its  waters  are  of 
a  blue-green  color  and  its  current  fully  five  miles  an 
hour.  Four  fine  bridges  span  its  breadth. 

The  most  conspicuous  edifice  of  the  town  is  the 
Miinster,  which  was  formerly  the  Cathedral  of  the 
see  of  Bile.  It  occupies  a  most  magnificent  site,  on 
a  kind  of  parapet  rising  from  the  river  to  the  height 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  The  building-  is  of 
a  peculiar  red  sand-stone  and  is  built  in  Gothic  style, 
with  two  tapering  towers.  The  Miinster  dates  from 
1010  to  1500.  The  work  of  restoration  is  going  on 
at  present  and  the  new  tiles,  white  and  yellow,  in 
diamond  shapes,  make  a  sad  contrast  to  the  som- 
bre pile  beneath.  The  interior  of  the  church — ten 
cents  to  enter — is  cold  and  bare  as  a  barn.  The 
elevation  for  the  altar  is  now  occupied  by  rows  of 


44  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

beaches  facing1  the  body  of  the  church.  Around  the 
sides  are  several  tombs  of  bishops,  built  into  the 
walls,  with  a  reclining-  figure  in  relief.  The  nose, 
ears,  fingers,  etc.,  are  always  missing-  from  these 
figures,  and  a  sorry  sight  they  present.  One  of  the 
pillars  bears  the  tombstone  of  Erasmus.  It  was  in 
this  Cathedral  that  the  council  of  Basilius  was  held 
for  the  ostensible  purpose  of  the  "reformation  of  the 
church  in  head  and  members."  The  council  was 
dissolved  and  its  members  excommunicated  by  Pope 
Eugene  IV.  in  1448.  A  mediaeval  collection  of  curios 
occupies  three  floors  in  a  building  adjoining-  the 
church.  We  found  the  old  musical  instruments  most 
interesting1.  Among-  these  were  several  harpsichords 
that  tinkled  like  jews-harps.  A  head  connected  with 
the  clock  tower  at  regular  intervals  stuck  out  a  long 
red  tong-ue.  The  original  Dance  of  Death  is  exhibited 
on  stone  or  plaster  fragments  about  one  metre 
square.  They  once  adorned  the  wall  of  the  Domin- 
ican burial  ground  and  were  painted  early  in  the  15th 
century.  Among-  the  church  articles  were  several 
missals  about  four  feet  long-  and  the  same  in  width, 
and  having-  the  notes  on  vellum  the  size  of  large  dice. 

A  beautiful  cloister  of  the  15th  century  is  con- 
structed on  two  sides  of  the  church.  It  was  used  as 
a  burial  place.  It  is  covered  by  a  pitched  roof,  and 
through  the  handsome  Gothic  and  g-lassless  case- 
ments a  fine  view  is  had  of  the  river  beneath  and 
the  Black  Forest  beyond. 

The  attendant  who  showed  us  about  the  place  was 
a  queer  compound.  He  spoke  a  little  French,  less 
English,  and  a  great  deal  of  German.  He  accosted 
us  in  such  a  way  that  I  thought  we  were  going  to 
be  arrested.  He  g-esticulated,  pointed,  talked  all  the 
while,  and  finally  pulled  out  some  tickets  and  de- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  45 

manded  a  franc.  We  gave  him  one,  and  he  gave  us 
a  ticket  and  immediately  took  it  away  again,  for  he 
was  ticket  taker  as  well  as  ticket  agent.  In  showing 
us  the  curiosities  he  would  stop  suddenly  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence  of  German  and  French  and  say 
"sword, "lest  we  might  take  that  weapon  for  a  pick- 
axe. We  would  say  "Vraiment?"  and  he  would  add 
"Yah,  Oui,  Yes." 

Just  beneath  the  walls  of  the  terrace  was  a  ferry 
plying  back  and  forth  across  the  river.  The  boat, 
with  a  small  canopy  for  the  stern,  was  attached  to  a 
single  cable  that  reached  from  shore  to  shore.  No 
oar  or  paddle  of  any  kind  was  used,  and,  for  a  long 
time,  we  were  at  a  loss  to  know  what  was  its  pro- 
pelling power.  Finally  we  discovered  that  by  a 
simple  application  of  a  well-known  principle  of  physics 
the  current  is  utilized  for  this  purpose.  It  is  like 
this :  An  iron  rod  is  attached  to  one  side  of  the 
prow  of  the  boat,  and  this  is  connected  with  the 
cable,  causing  the  boat  to  make  an  angle  of  about 
thirty  degrees  with  the  direction  of  the  stream. 
Then  the  pull  of  the  chain  up  the  stream  towards 
the  cable,  and  the  force  of  the  current  in  the  oppo- 
site direction,  causes  the  boat  to  move  in  the  line  of 
the  resultant  of  the  two  forces,  or  across  the  river. 
To  return,  the  iron  rod  is  but  shifted  to  the  other 
side  of  the  prow  and  the  angle  made  in  the  other 
direction. 

At  Bale  there  is  a  picture  gallery,  but  we  failed  to 
gain  admission  to  it.  Its  most  noted  pictures  are 
those  of  the  two  Holbein. 

The  University  occupies  several  buildings  of  con- 
siderable size,  but,  like  all  European  universities,  it 
makes  no  pretentions  to  beauty. 

One  of    the  wprks  of   the  Renaissance  affected   us 


46  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

more  than  the  rest.  It  was  the  sight  of  an  old 
church,  immense  in  its  proportions,  and  not  bad  in 
its  design,  converted  into  a  dirty  storehouse  for 
butter,  lard,  etc.  A  lone  stork  perched  upon  the 
shattered  spire  would  at  first  be  mistaken  for  a 
weather  vane. 

We  saw  little  else  of  the  town  and  took   the  train 
for  Lucerne,  a  ride  of  about  four  and  a  half  hours. 


BALE  TO   LUCERNE. 

The  Swiss  train  is  very  much  like  our  own,  and 
consequently  differs  from  those  of  France  and  Ger- 
many, which  are  made  up  of  compartments.  Our 
neighbors  on  this  trip  merit  description.  Across  the 
aisle  was  a  party  of  Americans,  four  young-  men  from 
about  fourteen  to  forty.  I  say  young,  for  the  one  of 
forty  wore  a  kind  of  lawn  tennis  suit,  and  felt  as 
young  as  the  youngest.  The  one  of  fourteen  was 
old-fashioned  enough  to  be  included  in  the  category. 
There  were  also  five  or  six  ladies  in  the  party,  but 
these  we  could  not  see  owing  to  the  high  back  seats. 
Our  vis-^-vis  was  a  little  sandy-haired  French  abbe 
and  his  mother.  We  had  met  them  a  few  hours  pre- 
vious and,  having  inquired  the  direction  of  the  church 
we  struck  up  an  acquaintance.  True  to  his  promise 
the  little  abb<5  had  hunted  us  up,  and,  through  no 
fault  of  ours,  had  found  us.  He  was  about  thirty 
years  old,  short,  and  as  lively  as  a  cricket.  She 
looked  too  young  to  be  his  mother,  and  I  never  saw 
anyone  so  delighted  as  she  was  when  we  told  her 
that  we  thought  she  was  his  sister.  They  were  a 
most  affectionate  pair.  He  would  sometimes  pat  her 
on  the  cheek  at  some  precocious  trait  she  told  of  him, 
and  call  her  his  "bonne  mere."  He  was  too  busy, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  47 

however,  with  the  scenery  about  to  catch  all  the 
good  thing's  she  said  of  him.  Among  the  rest,  she 
said  she  still  had  to  support  this  "horrid  boy"  of 
hers,  as  he  gave  all  his  money  to  the  poor.  And  I 
really  believed  her,  for  he  seemed  the  best-natured 
of  men.  As  the  train  wound  in  among  the  valleys 
and  the  great  hills  rose  into  mountains,  Monsieur 
1'Abbd's  enthusiasm  heightened  accordingly.  He  was 
on  all  sides  of  the  car  at  once,  bareheaded  and  field 
glasses  in  hand.  "  Voila  une  belle  eglise  !"  "  Mag- 
nifique !"  "  Mon  Dieu,  sublime!"  Thus  he  went 
through  the  whole  vocabulary  of  exclamations,  and 
his  rapture  knew  no  bounds.  In  striking  contrast 
with  this  was  the  "sang  froid  "  of  our  countrymen 
across  the  way.  They  leaned  languidly  back  and  dis- 
cussed the  baseball  situation  at  home,  scarcely  deign- 
ing to  bestow  a  single  glance  on  the  magnificent 
spectacle  before  them,  as  if  wishing  people  to  infer 
they  had  in  their  country  such  sights  as  this  in  their 
back  yards,  or  that  it  was  only  the  vulgar  who  ex- 
press admiration  for  the  most  stupendous  works  in 
nature. 

Here  and  there  the  road  skirted  the  shores  of  a 
placid  lake,  whose  surface  reflected  every  cloud  per- 
fectly, as  in  a  mirror. 

On  the  opposite  side  we  caught  the  first  sight  of 
the  eternal  snows,  so  like  the  silver  cloud  that  hung 
above  it  seemed  a  part  of  it,  and,  as  if  tired  of  its 
aerial  wanderings,  had  descended  there  to  rest  awhile. 
The  day  was  very  hot,  and  while  actually  suffering 
from  the  heat  it  was  hard  to  realize  that  snow  and 
ice  were  within  range  of  our  vision. 

It  was  dusk  when  we  reached  Lucerne. 


48  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

LUCERNE. 

The  first  view  of  Lucerne  is  one  of  surpassing-  beau- 
ty. Directly  in  front  spreads  the  lake  for  several  miles 
in  all  directions.  To  the  left  is  the  Rigi,  covered  with 
verdure  to  its  very  summit.  To  the  right  the  Pilatus, 
black  and  frowning  as  that  judge  of  old,  pierces  the 
very  clouds,  while  in  the  arena  of  the  amphitheatre 
thus  formed  lies  the  quaint  little  city.  Our  small  par- 
ty soon  found  accommodations  and  the  first  care  of 
M.  1'AbWs  mother  was  to  examine  our  beds,  and 
make  them  ready  for  the  night.  A  few  minutes  later 
and  we  all  dined  together.  It  was  the  most  pleasant 
meal  I  had  for  months.  A  stroll  through  the  town 
after  night-fall  completed  the  evening's  program.  A 
storm  had  been  gathering  for  some  time,  and  though 
the  rain  did  not  yet  fall,  the  thunder  fairly  shook  the 
ground  we  stood  on,  and  the  vivid  flashes  of  lightning 
showed  the  outlines  of  the  impending  mountains.  This 
gave  us  an  idea  of  a  mountain  storm,  and  when  the  rain 
came  down,  not  in  drops,  but  in  sheets,  we  could  pity 
any  belated  travelers  on  the  heights  above. 

The  principal  monument  is  the  "Lion  of  Lucerne." 
In  a  grotto  in  the  face  of  a  cliff  is  a  dying  lion,  trans- 
fixed by  a  broken  lance,  and  sheltering  between  his 
paws  the  Bourbon  lily.  It  is  hewn  from  the  natural 
rock,  and  commemorates  the  death  of  twenty-six  of- 
ficers and  seven  hundred  and  sixty  soldiers  of  the 
Swiss  Guard  who  fell  in  defence  of  the  Tuileries, 
Paris,  Aug.  10,  1792.  Their  names  are  on  the  rock 
about,  and  in  front  is  a  small  pool  and  fountain. 

Several  large  and  beautiful  hotels  command  a  fine 
view  of  the  lake,  and  on  the  hill  sides  about  are 
many  "pensions,"  which  give  life  to  the  scene.  The 
town,  for  the  most  part,  is  quite  modern,  but  pre- 
serves several  relics  of  the  past,  as  the  old  cathedral. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  49 

Then,  too,  in  the  middle  of  the  Reuss,  or  water-way, 
that  shoots  out  of  the  lake  like  an  arrow,  is  a  tower, 
said  to  have  been  a  lighthouse  (luccrna),  whence  the 
name.  Its  cap  is  for  all  the  world  like  the  snuffer 
of  a  candle,  which  has  extinguished  that  light  for 
ever.  An  old-fashioned  bridge  crosses  this  stream  at 
an  angle.  It  is  of  wood,  covered  with  tiles,  and 
decorated  by  diamond-shaped  paintings,  hardly  dis- 
cernible now,  of  their  patron  saints.  Another  relic 
of  "ye  ancient  days"  is  the  wall  and  watch  towers 
that  surround  the  town.  These  are,  of  course,  in  a 
dilapidated  condition,  but  show  considerable  skill,  and 
a  little  attempt  is  made  at  ornament.  The  city  is 
now  on  both  sides  of  the  wall,  its  gates  stand  open, 
and  it  winds  a  tortuous  ascent  between  the  houses 
up  and  down  the  hills,  like  a  dying  serpent. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival  we  climbed  a  neigh- 
boring eminence,  from  which  the  whole  country 
spread  out  as  an  enchantment,  and  there  we  said 
the  morning  "office."  Never  before  did  I  realize  the 
beauty  of  these  lines.  "  Lsetentur  cceli,  et  exsultet 
terra,  commoveatur  more  et  plenitude  ejus;  gaude- 
bunt  campi,  et  omnia  quae  in  eis  sunt.  *  *  * 
Montes,  sicut  cera  fluxerunt  a  facie  Domini;  a  facie 
Domini  omnis  terra.  Annuntiaverunt  coeli  justitiam 
ejus." 

"  Let  the  heavens  be  glad  and  the  earth  rejoice, 
and  let  the  fullness  of  the  sea  be  moved,  and  let  the 
fields  and  all  things  which  are  in  them  be  joyful. 

*  *  *  The  mountains  have  flowed  out  like  wax 
before  the  face  of  the  Lord,  the  whole  earth  before 
the  face  of  the  Lord.  The  heavens  have  proclaimed 
His  justice." 

When  again  we  descended  to  earthly  considerations 
the  lines  of  Goldsmith,  written  from  just  such  a 


50  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

place  as  this,  borrowed  a  force  and  beauty  they  never 

koew  before. 

"Where  the  bleak  Swiss  their  stormy  mansion  tread 
And  force  a  churlish  soil  for  scanty  bread. 

»*•»»»** 
No  vernal  blooms  their  torpid  rocks  array, 
But  winter  lingering  chills  the  lap  of  May; 
No  zephyr  fondly  sues  the  mountain's  breast, 
But  meteors  glare,  and  stormy  glooms  invest. 
Yet  still,  e'en  here,  content  can  spread  and  charm, 
Redress  the  clime,  and  all  its  rage  disarm. 
Though  poor  the  peasant's  hut.  his  feast  though  small, 
He  sees  his  little  lot  the  lot  of  all." 

The  cathedral,  to  which  we  paid  a  visit,  is  a  very 
rickety  concern.  On  the  wall  outside  is  a  sculpture 
of  the  "Agony  in  the  Garden,"  so  old  and  coarse  it 
looks  as  if  it  might  have  been  done  with  a  pick-axe. 
The  canons  were  chanting-  the  Office;  some,  old  men 
with  high,  cracked  voices,  others  with  the  resonance 
of  a  tunnel;  little  boys  with  dirty  surplices  over 
yellow  breeches,  for  they  wore  no  soutanes,  and  all 
paying  more  attention  to  us  than  to  their  prayers, 
was  what  we  found  here. 

In  our  rambles  early  in  the  evening  we  wandered 
on  board  the  little  steamer  that  plys  to  and  fro  on 
the  lake,  and  which  was  lying  for  the  night  at  its 
moorings.  It  was  about  eight  o'clock,  and  a  few 
German  officials  explained  to  us  that  the  boat  did 
not  leave  again  that  night.  We  pretended  to  under- 
stand the  contrary,  and  were  settling  ourselves  when 
another  was  sent  to  try  French  on  us.  He  told  us 
that  the  last  boat  left  at  five,  and  although  it  was 

quite  dark  Mr.  H innocently  asked  him  if  it  were 

yet  five.  The  question  almost  staggered  him,  but 
the  offer  we  made  him  quite  revived  him,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  we  were  on  the  best  of  terms.  He  told 
us  he  had  been  in  Paris  sometime,  and  how  enthusi- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  51 

astic  he  grew  over  the  beauties  of  the  metropolis ! 
So  much  so,  in  fact,  that  he  spoke  half-contemptu- 
ously  of  his  own  cloud-capped  mountains  and  heaven- 
reflecting  lakes,  and  longed  for  the  city  again.  Few, 
he  told  us,  of  the  bumpkins  about  had  been  so  sin- 
gularly favored  as  himself,  and  seen  so  much  of  the 
world.  We  learned  a  few  particulars  of  the  Swiss 
military  service.  The  number  of  available  men  is 
about  two  hundred  thousand.  All  have  to  serve  a 
term  in  the  army,  though  it  is  considerably  shorter 
than  in  the  French  army.  The  commander-in-chief 
is  the  only  Swiss  official  who  retains  his  position  for 
life.  The  President  is  elected  for  one  year,  and  can 
fill  two  successive  terms,  after  which  he  is  ineligible. 
The  soldiers  wear  clothes  two  or  three  times  too 
large,  and  carry  equipments  heavy  enough  for  a 
mule.  Besides  a  knapsack  of  bearskin,  an  overcoat, 
and  an  ammunition  box,  they  have  several  good-sized 
tin  pans  on  their  backs.  They  are  solemn  as  under- 
takers, but  are  not  bad  looking,  and  of  a  good 
stature. 

After  leaving  the  boat  landing  we  wandered  along 
the  water  edge,  that  was  lined  with  trees  and  well 
lighted  by  electricity.  Above  on  the  heights  was, 
here  and  there,  a  villa  or  hotel  brilliantly  illuminated, 
and  having  the  mountains  for  an  inky  background. 
We  followed  the  direction  of  music  in  the  distance, 
and  soon  came  to  the  "Kursaal,"  where  there  was  a 
light  opera  going  on.  It  was  in  French,  the  singing 
was  quite  good,  and  the  piece  reminded  me  very 
much  of  "Victor,  the  Bluestocking." 


LUCERNE  TO  ALPNACH. 

The  ride  is  about  an  hour.  The  steamer  is  large 
and  very  gracefully  shaped,  and  makes  very  good 
time.  There  must  have  been  several  hundred  on 


52  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

board,  and  sheltered  by  the  awning  from  the  hot 
rays  of  the  mid-day  sun,  with  a  gentle  breeze  blow- 
ing-, and  so  magnificent  a  panorama  spread  out  before 
us.  Once  on  the  way  we  got  a  better  view  of  the 
town.  The  high  parapeted  walls  and  slender  towers 
lift  themselves  above  the  surrounding  buildings  and 
mark  distinctly  the  outlines  of  the  ancient  city. 
Along  the  shores  of  the  mountain  side  are  dozens  of 
little  villages.  The  houses  are  always  picturesque, 
usually  of  two  or  three  stories,  with  a  low,  far-pro- 
jecting roof,  and  all  of  wood.  These  little  habita- 
tions number  about  twenty  houses,  and  every  one  of 
them  has  its  little  church  and  church-yard,  where 

"Each  in  his  narrow  cell  forever  laid 
The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep." 

There  was  little  sign  of  life  about  the  place  How- 
ever, at  one  point  approaching  nearer  the  shore,  we 
did  see  some  indications  of  it,  and  a  hard  life  it  was. 
In  a  quarry  on  the  open  face  of  a  cliff,  among  the 
laborers,  we  saw  a  woman  breaking  stone,  and  be- 
side her,  in  a  rude  baby  carriage,  was  an  infant.  If 
such  a  conjunction  is  necessary,  God  help  them  both. 

Hills  closed  in  behind  us,  as  others  rose  before,  so 
that  neither  inlet  nor  outlet  was  visible  at  the  dis- 
tance of  half  a  mile,  and  the  scenes  were  ever  varied 
and  never  repeated.  All  too  soon  we  reached  Alpnach. 
It  is  a  town  scarce  larger  than  those  we  saw  along 
the  shore,  and  nothing  more  than  they,  except  it  is 
now  the  terminus  of  the  mountain  railway  which  was 
finished  this  spring.  Formerly  a  diligence  plied  be- 
tween here  and  Brienz,  in  fact  our  tickets  were 
marked  so  as  to  make  the  trip,  but  the  completion 
of  the  railroad  was  a  deathblow  to  the  diligence  line. 
A  party  we  met  in  Paris  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
on  the  last  coach  that  ran,  and  described  it  to  us. 


OF   BISHOP  DELANY  53 

The  carriage  was  draped  in  mourning-  and  the 
horses  wore  black  plumes,  making1  up  a  funeral  cor- 
tege for  the  old  dead  line  that  thus  went  out  of 
existence.  We  would  rather  have  made  the  trip  by 
diligence,  but  we  found  that  what  the  railroad  missed 
in  romance  it  made  up  in  sublimity. 


ALPNACH  TO  BRIENZ  AND  INTERLAKEN. 

The  mountain  railway,  I  think,  is  very  much  like 
that  of  Mount  Washington  and  other  mountains  at 
home,  so  scarcely  needs  a  full  description.  The  rate 
of  speed  on  the  grade  is  about  five  or  six  miles  an 
hour.  The  higher  and  higher  we  went  the  more 
sublime  and  awe-inspiring  the  scenery  became.  The 
road  is  built  almost  on  the  face  of  the  cliff,  and 
gives  an  excellent  view  of  the  valley  beneath  and  the 
mountains  on  the  opposite  side.  Sometimes  we  rattled 
over  a  chasm  hundreds  of  feet  deep,  in  the  depths 
of  which  a  maddened  torrent  dashed  along.  We  got 
a  fine  glimpse  of  several  of  these  ravines  from  the 
platform  of  the  car.  Sometimes  we  passed  beneath 
an  overhanging  precipice,  and  again  right  through  a 
corner  of  the  cliff.  About  half  way  up  we  stopped 
to  make  some  connections,  and  had  an  opportunity  to 
see  a  picturesque  group  of  natives,  six  in  number, 
three  of  them  women,  though  the  first  glance  would 
not  tell  you  that.  They  were  raking  a  few  handfuls 
of  hay  on  a  scanty  plot.  All  wore  the  same  high 
straw  hats.  They  were  dressed  much  after  the 
same  fashion,  and  the  women  were  barefooted.  As 
the  train  stopped  all  came  to  a  shoulder-arms  atti- 
tude with  their  rakes  and  remained  perfectly  motion- 
less in  a  file,  like  six  scare  crows. 

The  higher  we  got  the  broader  the  view  became,  and 


54  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

numerous  snow  mountains  rose  on  all  sides.  The 
effect  at  first  is  peculiar.  When  suffering  from  the 
intense  heat  of  the  sun,  and  the  verdure  of  summer 
under  your  feet,  it  is  difficult  to  realize  that  there  above, 
those  silver  streaks  that  fleck  the  mountain's  side  are 
not  a  part  of  that  scudding  cloud,  and  you  watch  in 
expectation  to  see  it  rise  and  betake  itself  on  its  aerial 
journey.  But  no,  there  it  remains,  stable  as  the  ermine 
mantle  just  above,  that  came  into  being  "when  the 
hills  were  brought  forth,"  and  nerer  yet  has  felt  one 
kindly  ray  of  the  summer  sun. 

At  the  highest  point  of  the  road  we  made  a  halt  and 
had  a  little  refreshments,  or  "restauration"  as  the  sign 
called  it.  It  was  here  we  saw,  for  the  first  time, 
the  picturesque  costume  of  this  canton,  worn  by  the 
waitresses.  Though  some  of  them  were  rather  old, 
this  "gentil"  dress  was  not  as  unbecoming  as  would  be 
expected,  yet  these  women  had  the  appearance  of  being 
"made  up." 

The  descent  was  made  in  about  the  same  time  as 
the  ascent.  By  little  and  little  the  objects  in  the  val- 
leys beneath  assumed  their  proper  proportions,  the 
miniature  villages  became  good-sized  settlements,  and 
the  waterways  that  seemed  small  enough  to  step  across, 
turned  into  moderately  large  rivers.  A  spin  of  about 
a  half  an  hour  on  the  level  ground  brought  us  to 
Brienz.  This  town  has  nothing  more  to  boast  of  than 
a  dozen  little  houses,  and  a  charming  situation  in  an 
arm  of  the  lake  of  the  same  name.  The  lake,  owing 
to  the  high  rocky  mountains  that  rise  abruptly  from 
its  shores,  seems  but  a  few  hundred  yards  in  width, 
though  in  reality  it  is  a  mile  and  half.  The  steamboat 
crosses  to  theGiessbach,  the  most  copious  waterfall  that 
we  saw,  and  which,  in  view  from  the  steamer,  leaps 
over  its  seventh  cascade  and  falls  into  the  lake  beneath. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  55 

There  is  an  ingenious  railroad  arrangement  here  for 
the  hotel  on  the  summit.  Two  cars  are  used;  one 
ascends  while  the  other  descends;  the  gravitation  of 
the  latter,  weighted  with  water,  forms  the  motive  power. 
A  good  story  is  told  of  a  fidgety  old  lady  who,  when 
riding  on  one  of  these  mountain  railways — it  might 
have  been  this  one — was  very  much  concerned  for  her 
safety,  and  annoyed  the  conductor  every  time  he  passed 
by  inquiring  what  means  they  had  to  stop  the  train 
in  its  downward  rush,  should  it  become  detached  from 
the  engine.  "Oh!" said  he,  "we  have  a  system  of  brakes 
which  could  do  that."  "Well,  what  if  they  should 
break?"  "There  is  a  second  set,  independent  of  these, 
that  could  be  used."  "What,  if  they  would  not  work?" 
she  insisted.  "Then  there  is  a  rope  and  tackle  that 
would  answer  the  purpose,"  said  he,  getting  somewhat 
impatient.  "But  if  this  would  fail,"  she  continued, 
"where  would  we  go?"  "  Well,"  replied  he,  "Madam, 
that  depends  on  how  you  have  lived." 


INTERLAKEN. 

A  ride  of  ten  minutes  on  the  railroad  brought  us 
to  Interlaken.  It  was  growing  dark  and  chilly  when 
we  reached  our  destination,  and  we  willingly  sacrificed 
our  grip-sacks  to  an  obliging  porter,  and  followed 
whither  he  led,  we  knew  not  where.  The  hotel  proved 
to  be  a  rather  rustic  concern,  though  clean  and  tidy 
apartments  were  given  us  for  the  night.  At  supper  we 
were  much  interested  in  an  old  fellow  that  sat  a  few 
seats  below.  He  was  a  typical  "deutsche."  He  was 
a  little  beyond  the  middle  age,  his  hair  was  long  and 
turned  in  at  the  end,  and  a  fore-lock  hung  down  on 
one  side.  He  wore  heavy  iron-bound  spectacles,  read 
a  newspaper,  smoked  a  large  pipe,  the  bowl  of  which 


56  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

he  held  in  his  hand,  and  between  the  puffs  he  supped 
his  beer  from  a  large  mug.  Such  a  picture  of  con- 
tentment is  seldom  met.  Our  lodgings,  after  the  first 
day,  were  just  in  front  of  the  hotel  on  the  bill,  in  a 
little  Swiss  cottage,  with  no  obstruction  between  us 
and  the  lovely  Jungfrau.  The  principal  street  is  about 
a  mile  long,  sheltered  by  fine  walnut  trees  and  for  a 
great  part  of  its  length,  lined  with  magnificent  hotels. 
Perhaps  the  only  object  of  historic  interest  about 
the  place,  is  an  old  monastery  and  convent,  dating 
from  1130.  The  buildings  are  now  used  for  a  hos- 
pital and  prison,  and  the  church  divided  for  three 
religions.  It  is  to  the  Augustinian  monks  who  first 
came  here  that  the  town  owes  its  existence.  They 
performed  the  herculean  labor  of  draining  this  valley 
between  the  lakes,  making  a  channel  for  the  waters 
of  the  lake  of  Brienz,  which  is  twenty  feet  above 
those  of  the  Lake  of  Thun,  and  transforming  the 
bottom  of  a  lake  into  a  smiling  valley.  The  buildings 
must  have  been  admirably  suited  for  the  purpose  for 
which  they  were  intended;  the  old  church  tower  is 
perhaps  the  only  relic  left  intact,  and  is  a  monument 
to  its  builders.  As  to  the  site,  there  is,  perhaps,  no 
spot  in  the  world  better  suited  than  this  in  which  to 
chant,  as  those  monks  did,  their  orisons  to  the 
Almighty,  Who  declares  *'with  Me  is  the  beauty  of 
the  field."  The  monastery  was  suppressed  during 
the  time  of  the  Reformation. 

On  Sunday  we  assisted  at  Mass,  and  heard  the 
sermon  preached  in  German  and  French.  In  the 
afternoon  we  took  a  ramble  on  the  Kleine  Rugen,  a 
beautiful  wooded  hill  a  short  distance  from  the  town. 
After  a  good  climb  we  reached  the  summit,  and 
were  more  than  amply  repaid  for  the  effort.  From 
this  point,  through  a  clearing  in  the  trees,  we  could 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  57 

see  the  whole  valley  Bodeli  and  both  the  lakes.  From 
the  hillside  opposite  us,  and  several  miles  away,  we 
heard  music  and  laughter,  and  now  and  then  the 
rattling  of  a  wag-on  over  the  road,  but  could  see 
nothing  owing  to  the  dense  woods.  As  we  descended 
the  music  appeared  to  come  nearer  to  us,  and  we 
determined  to  find  it,  but  it  seemed  to  elude  us,  and 
like  a  cricket's  chirping  was  first  on  one  side  and 
then  on  the  other.  The  longer  it  avoided  us  the 
sweeter  it  became,  and  the  more  resolved  were  we 
to  find  it.  At  last  it  was  just  beneath  us,  and  down 
the  hillside  we  sped,  in  imminent  danger  of  breaking 
our  necks,  and  fairly  burst  upon  a  poor  one-legged 
organ-grinder,  working  his  instrument  for  dear  life. 
Well,  for  a  few  minutes  we  were  in  doubt  whether 
to  break  the  machine  or  give  the  poor  fellow  a  few 
sous  for  the  joke.  We  did  the  latter.  Later,  a  little 
girl  of  seven  or  eight  years,  with  bare  arms,  a  tow 
head,  bright  blue  eyes,  and  a  skin  of  tan,  came 
running  after  us  with  a  bunch  of  mountain  flowers 
in  her  outstretched  hand.  We  took  a  few  of  them 
and  gave  her  some  pennies,  which  she  did  not  seem 
to  expect,  and  off  she  scampered  up  the  hill  again. 
I  am  sorry  there  was  not  some  Edelweiss  among  the 
flowers,  if  there  were  I  would  send  it  home.  It  is  a 
great  favorite  here,  and  is  worn  by  all.  It  resembles 
a  small  star  fish,  is  of  an  ash  color,  and  grows  at  a 
great  height — too  high  for  me  to  climb  for  it.  The 
children  here  are  the  picture  of  health;  they  wear  no 
sleeves,  are  always  bare-headed,  often  bare-legged, 
and  form  a  striking  contrast  to  the  doll-like  babies 
met  in  Paris.  Our  new  quarters  in  a  Swiss  cottage 
gave  us  an  opportunity  to  see  how  the  Swiss  people 
live.  First  of  all,  they  are  very  clean  and  tidy.  The 
women,  at  least,  have  to  work  hard,  even  to  menial 


58  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

labor.  I  had  forgotten  to  leave  my  shoes  at  the 
door,  and  when  I  inquired  for  a  blacking  brush  the 
next  morning  a  stout,  strapping  damsel  rolled  up  her 
sleeves  and  told  me  to  stick  out  my  foot,  that  she 
was  the  bootblack.  She  seemed  more  offended  at  my 
refusal  to  permit  her  than  an  American  girl  would 
be  if  I  asked  her  to  shine  them.  At  table  all  were 
very  polite,  and  your  neighbor  never  forgot  to  wish 
you  "a  good  appetite"  when  sitting  down,  and  "a 
good  digestion"  when  leaving  the  table.  On  the 
roads,  too,  young  and  old  would  touch  their  hats  and 
bid  "good-day."  

THE  LAKE  OF  THUN. 

The  road  from  Interlaken,  like  that  to  it,  is  by 
rail  and  steamboat.  The  second  lake  is  more  beauti- 
ful than  the  first.  The  hillsides,  well  cultivated  with 
grain  and  vines,  slope  gently  to  the  water's  edge,  and 
here  and  there  a  ruined  tower  and  a  modern  chateau 
give  variety,  if  such  be  needed.  In  the  far  distance 
a  range  of  snow-capped  mountains  replace  the  Jung- 
frau.  The  water  of  the  lake  is  a  bluish-green  tint, 
and  specked  here  and  there  with  very  pretty  boats. 
One,  nearer  to  us,  carried  a  bright-colored  awning, 
and  was  rowed  by  a  woman,  who  seemed  to  be  pilot- 
ing a  party  of  pleasure  seekers.  Our  fellow  passen- 
gers were  much  the  same  as  those  we  had  met  be- 
fore,— talkative  women,  men  with  outlandish  suits 
and  the  inevitable  Alpine  stick.  Perhaps  two-thirds  of 
those  on  the  boat  spoke  English,  and  each  one  supposed 
he  was  the  only  one,  and  that  he  could  say  what  he 
pleased.  An  Englishman  behind  me  was  correcting 
a  French  lady  for  using  the  word  "prospect"  in 
describing  a  view.  "Hi  might  'ave  a  'prospect'  of  a 
'undred  thousand  pounds,"  said  he,  "but  you  can't 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  59 

say  'prospect'  of  a  country."  He  evidently  knew 
more  about  pounds  than  compounds,  and  tha  only 
prospect  he  knew  was  the  only  one  he  cared  for. 

While  I  stood  watching-  the  distant  hills  through  a 
pair  of  field  glasses  I  noticed  a  gentleman  at  my 
elbow  whom  I  had  heard  speak  English.  He,  like 
the  rest,  thought  he  was  the  only  English-speaking- 
person  aboard,  so  for  the  fun  of  it  I  turned  sudden- 
ly and  asked  him  if  he  wished  to  look  through  the 
glasses.  He  stammered  "Oui, — yes, — no,  I  didn't 
know  you  spoke  English."  He  proved  to  be  an 
Irishman,  and  we  were  soon  talking  Home  Rule,  a 
subject  that  was  very  near  to  his  heart,  and  in  the 
cause  of  which  he  was  a  warm  supporter. 

The  town  of  Thun,  from  a  distance — for  we  did 
not  go  very  near  it — is  of  a  very  mediaeval  build.  It 
is  on  a  hill,  and  counts  many  chateaux  with  high 
towers  and  conical  caps. 

From  this  point  the  train  leaves  for  Berne. 


BERNE. 

Berne  is  a  city  of  about  fifty  thousand  inhabitants, 
and  is  the  seat  of  government  of  the  Swiss  confeder- 
ation. Of  all  the  cities  of  Switzerland  it  has  best 
preserved  its  mediaeval  appearance.  There  are  four 
or  five  quite  large  streets,  and  their  width  is  in  no 
wise  impaired  by  their  sidewalks,  as  these  latter  are 
formed  by  arcades.  These  arcades  are  a  distinguish- 
ing feature  of  the  town,  and  no  doubt  are  the  proto- 
type of  those  of  the  Louvre  at  Paris.  They  are, 
however,  low  and  heavy,  and  usually  between  the 
arches  are  two  stone  benches,  which  serve  for  diverse 
purposes,  from  resting  a  weary  tramp  to  the  work- 
shop of  a  cobbler  or  the  display  of  wares.  The 


60  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

store  windows  are  at  a  disadvantage  here,  but  not  so 
at  the  Louvre,  where  the  same  idea  is  better  carried 
out.  It  seems  a  perfect  solution  to  the  problem  of 
street  widening  in  large  cities,  though  I  have  heard 
the  idea  was  ridiculed  in  Boston.  Through  the 
middle  of  the  street  runs  an  open  sewer  of  perhaps 
two  feet  in  width,  and  at  about  every  hundred  yards 
is  a  fountain.  The  escutcheon  of  Berne  is  a  shield 
with  the  figure  of  a  bear,  and  the  old  bruin  is 
found  at  every  turn,  mostly  in  effigy,  yet  not  always, 
for  a  bear  pit  is  kept  here  at  the  expense  of  the 
city.  On  the  principal  street  there  are  several  clock 
towers  of  ingenious  arrangement,  by  which  a  crow 
announces  the  approaching  hour,  after  which  bells 
are  rung  and  a  procession  of  little  bears  file  around 
a  sitting  figure.  During  the  day  there  is  hardly  any 
traffic  in  the  streets,  but  the  early  morning  finds  it 
busy  enough.  The  whole  road  is  covered  with 
stands,  mostly  for  vegetables,  and  the  people  that  are 
not  selling  are  buying.  They  do  not  shout  their 
wares,  and  a  better-natured  gathering  would  be  hard 
to  find.  It  is  a  rare  thing  to  see  a  horse  in  the 
street,  and  men  and  women  in  a  kind  of  harness 
seem  to  answer  the  purpose.  The  principal  building 
of  the  town  is  again  a  cathedral,  and,  again,  most 
beautifully  situated,  but  in  the  same  sorry  plight  as 
those  we  saw  at  Bile,  Lucerne,  and  Interlaken. 

I  am  sending  you  a  picture  of  Berne  and  the 
Bernese  Alps.  I  have  never  seen  anything  in  my 
life  so  majestically  grand  and  sublimely  beautiful  as 
those  hundred  miles  of  silver  heights  that  sparkled 
in  the  afternoon  sunlight.  Such  a  scene  is  perhaps 
not  so  awe-inspiring  as  the  Pilatus,  shrouded  in  a 
thundercloud  like  another  Sinai,  while  the  voice  of 
the  Almighty  shakes  the  ground  you  stand  on,  and 
yet,  as  Ruskin  remarks,  "it  is  not  in  the  broad 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  61 

and  fierce  manifestations  of  elemental  energy, 
nor  in  the  clash  of  hail,  nor  in  the  drift  of  the 
whirlwind,  that  the  highest  characters  of  the 
sublime  are  developed.  God  is  not  in  the  earth- 
quake, not  in  the  fire,  but  in  the  still,  small  voice. 
They  are  but  the  blunt  and  low  faculties  of  our 
nature  which  can  only  be  addressed  through  lamp- 
black and  lightning.  It  is  in  the  quiet  and  unsub- 
dued passages  of  obtrusive  majesty,  the  deep,  and 
the  calm  and  the  perpetual;  that  which  must  be 
sought  ere  it  is  seen,  and  loved  ere  it  is  understood, 
things  which  the  angels  work  out  for  us  eternally; 
which  are  to  be  found  always,  yet  each  found  but 
once;  it  is  through  these  that  the  lesson  of  devotion 
is  chiefly  taught,  and  the  blessings  of  beauty  given, 
those  visions  of  silver  palaces  built 
about  the  horizon,  and  the  voices  of  moaning  winds 
and  threatening  thunders,  and  the  glories  of  colored 
robe  and  cloven  ray,  are  but  to  deepen  in  our  hearts 
the  acceptance  and  distinctness  of  the  simple  words, 
'Our  Father  who  art  in  Heaven.'" 

We  found  here  a  legal  requirement  that  was  evi- 
dently intended  to  do  away  with  one  species  of  pro- 
ceedings not  the  least  interesting  on  the  legal  docket, 
that  of  breach  of  promise.  It  was  a  number  of 
printed  promises  of  marriage,  posted  in  a  public 
square,  in  great  large  letters.  In  the  evening  we 
visited  a  kind  of  casino  and  saw  a  German  comedy. 
The  piece  was  very  well  set  and  the  acting  quite 
good,  but  the  plot  of  the  play  remains  a  mystery  to 
this  day. 

LAKE   GENEVA. 

On  our  trip  from  Chillon  to  Geneva  we  skirted  the 
shores  of  this  beautiful  lake  for  almost  its  entire 
length,  a  distance  of  about  fifty  miles.  The  view  ob- 


62  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

tained  from  this  shore  is  considered  one  of  the  finest 
in  the  world,  and  a  French  writer  ranks  it  with  the 
Hellespont  and  the  Bay  of  Naples.  Unfortunately, 
we  could  but  form  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  its  beauty 
owing  to  the  wet  weather.  The  mountains  on  the 
opposite  shore  seemed  but  blackened  clouds,  and  the 
blue  waters  of  the  lake  were  beaten  into  white-capped 
waves,  while  the  picturesque  luggers  were  nowhere 
to  be  seen. 

The  day  was  wet  and  chilly  when  we  left  Lausanne 
and  the  rain  set  in,  in  earnest,  before  we  reached 
Chillon.  

THE  CASTLE  OK  CHILLON. 

The  castle  is  situated  almost  at  the  extremity  of 
the  Lake  of  Geneva,  near  the  little  town  of  Vil- 
leneuve.  The  castle  was  formerly  the  stronghold  of 
the  Duke  of  Savoy,  who,  about  the  beginning  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  made  war  against  the  republic  of 
Geneva.  Lord  Francis  Bonivard,  who  inherited  a 
rich  priory  near  Geneva,  warmly  espoused  the  cause 
of  the  republic,  and  thereby  incurred  the  relentless 
hostility  of  the  Duke.  After  various  fortunes  of  war 
Bonivard  was  taken  prisoner  and  confined  in  the 
chateau  of  Chillon,  where  he  remained  from  1530  to 
1536.  He  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-four.  The  castle 
was  subsequently  used  as  a  state  prison,  and  later 
as  an  arsenal.  Such  is  the  history  of  the  place,  but 
Byron  has  invested  the  spot  with  greater  interest  by 
the  poem,  "The  Prisoner  of  Chillon."  At  the  time 
the  poem  was  written,  Byron  did  not  know  of  the 
history  of  Bonivard,  or  he  would  have,  as  he  himself 
has  said,  dignified  the  subject  by  an  historical  basis. 

The  first  sight  of  the  castle  is  by  no  means  awe- 
inspiring,  as  the  structure  is  not  massive  and  is 
built  on  the  level  of  the  lake,  while  the  mountains 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  63 

around  and  above  it  mock  any  attempt  at  the  "gran- 
diose." The  building-  was  formerly  joined  to  the  main- 
land—  from  its  isolated  rock  —  by  a  draw-bridge,  but 
now  the  space  between  is  dry  land.  It  is  not  high, 
but  so  solid  that  one  does  not  wonder  that  it  stood  so 
well  the  ravages  of  time.  We,  with  a  party  of  six  or 
eight  others,  were  shown  through  the  place.  The 
principal  apartments  above  ground  are  a  council 
chamber  —  the  ceiling  of  which  is  in  panels  fully 
two  feet  thick  —  and  a  kitchen  with  a  fire- 
place large  enough  almost  to  hold  a  room.  The 
dungeon  is,  I  should  think,  a  little  below  the  surface 
of  the  lake,  about  fifty  feet  long  and  seventy  feet 
wide;  its  floor  and  one  wall  is  the  naked  ledge,  upon 
which  the  whole  structure  rests.  The  roof  is  vaulted, 
and  seven  Romanesque  pillars  and  arches  as  seen  in 
the  dim  light  admitted  through  the  long,  narrow  loop- 
holes, give  the  place  the  appearance  of  a  crypt,  and 
for  which  purpose  it  was  undoubtedly  intended.  The 
sixth  column  from  the  entrance  is  the  one  of  which 
Byron  speaks.  There  is  still  a  heavy  chain  and  ring 
attached  to  its  base,  and  the  stone  floor  is  here  worn 
to  the  depth  of  three  or  four  inches.  This  pillar 
is  inscribed  with  hundreds  of  names  of  visitors, 
among  which  we  deciphered  that  of  Byron,  Victor 
Hugo,  J.  J.  Rousseau,  G.  Sand,  and  others.  In  fact, 
every  available  inch  of  the  walls  through  the  whole 
building  is  covered  with  names.  Adjoining  the  main 
apartment  of  the  dungeon  is  a  small  chamber  of  tor- 
ture, in  the  middle  of  which  is  a  whipping-post  with 
rope  and  tackle  attachment  by  which  the  unfortunate 
was  raised  from  the  ground,  and,  as  the  guide  said, 
hot  irons  applied  to  the  soles  of  his  feet.  Nearby 
was  the  bed  of  stone,  sharp  and  jagged,  upon  which 
the  condemned  spent  bis  last  night  on  earth.  Lastly 


64  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

we  were  shown  the  manner  of  disposing  of  the  vic- 
tim. He  was  told  to  pass  through  the  Door  of  Lib- 
erty— a  black  hole  in  the  floor — and  that  freedom 
was  his.  Just  below  in  the  darkness  was  a  balanced 
plank,  from  which  be  was  dropped  upon  knife  blades, 
and  then  into  the  lake  beneath,  which  at  this  point 
is  three  hundred  feet  deep.  Such  is  the  blood-curd- 
ling recital  to  which  we  were  treated  by  the  guide, 
who  has  repeated  the  story  so  often  that  she  now 
firmly  believes  it  herself. 

At  the  railroad  station  we  had  some  time  to  wait 
for  the  train,  and  so  we  amused  ourselves  by  read- 
ing the  names  and  reflections  on  the  walls.  Among 
the  rest  we  found  those  of  Grover  Cleveland  and 
William  Gladstone,  inscribed  by  some  accommodating 
friends.  It  still  rained;  the  chilly,  dreary  weather 
lent  an  additional  gloom  to  the  old  castle,  while  the 
waves,  now  quite  large,  beat  sullenly  against  its 
dungeon  walls,  and  we  took  a  last  look,  like  Bonivard, 
at  the  mountains  with 

"their  thousand  years  of  snow 
On  high      *    *    *     *    their  wide  long  lake  below." 

and  later  we  saw 

"the  little  isle, 

Which  in  his  very  face  did  smile 
The  only  one  in  view.  " 


LAUSANNE. 

Lausanne  is  a  city  of  considerable  size  but  of  little 
historic  importance,  and  consequently  less  known  than 
most  of  the  other  places  along  our  route.  A  few  words 
of  it  will  suffice.  A  climb  up  its  steep  and  irregular 
streets  lined  with  tottering  houses,  and  a  flight  of  a 
hundred  steps  brings  one  to  the  terrace  of  the  Cathe- 
dral which  lifts  itself  from  the  vulgar  town  to  gaze 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  65 

upon  the  eternal  mountains  and  the  fair  expanse  of 
Lake  Geneva.  From  this  point  the  graceful  little  steam- 
boat, far  out  upon  the  lake,  seemed  like  a  swan,  while 
the  sailing1  boats  with  their  peculiar  lateen  sail — seen 
only  on  the  Mediterranean — glide  over  the  surface  of 
the  blue  waters,  for  all  the  world  like  a  butterfly. 
The  Cathedral,  built  in  the  thirteenth  century,  was 
once  a  magnificent  structure,  but  now  is  in  a  most 
sorry  plight.  Of  the  hundreds  of  fig-ures  that  graced 
the  portal  and  the  niches  about,  there  is  not  a  sound 
one  remaining.  It  is  true  the  work  of  restoration  is 
going1  on,  but  the  new  part  is  wholly  destitute  of  the 
elaboration  and  profusion  that  characterized  the  period 
to  which  the  church  belongs.  The  interior  is  no  bet- 
ter than  a  barn,  and  the  admonition  in  large  letters, 
"No  smoking,"  is  all  that  saves  it  from  this  profana- 
tion. At  the  door  there  were  a  half  dozen  persons 
quarreling-  and  arguing  as  loud  as  possible  about  the 
fee  of  two  cents.  A  poor  ragg-ed  girl  of  perhaps 
eighteen,  with  an  old  shawl  over  her  shoulders, 
advanced  with  us  as  far  as  the  altar  steps,  and  there 
sat  down,  munching  a  crust  of  bread,  and  waited  to  be 
engaged  by  us  to  explain  the  tablets  and  the  tombs 
about  the  place.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  these 
latter  had  over  it  the  reclining-  fig-ure  of  a  chevalier, 
from  which  the  hands  were  missing-.  The  girl  explained 
that  the  chevalier  in  life  had  been  deprived  of  these 
members  for  having  lost  a  judicial  duel.  The  appear- 
ance, however,  does  not  warrant  such  an  explanation, 
for  they  seem  to  have  been  broken  off  with  his  toes 
and  nose.  Two  little  hands  on  a  cushion  symbolize 
the  ban  under  which  he  suffered.  Here  is  also  the 
monument  of  the  Duke  Victor  Amadeus  VIII.  of  Savoy, 
elected  Pope  by  the  Council  of  Bale,  under  the  title 
of  Felix  V.,  died  1451. 


66  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

GENKVA. 

Geneva  is  the  most  important  city  of  Switzerland  with 
over  sixty  thousand  inhabitants.  It  is  situated  at 
the  southern  extremity  of  the  lake  which  bears  its 
name,  at  the  point  where  the  Rhone,  after  traveling 
fifty  miles  through  the  waters  of  the  lake,  emerges 
swift  as  an  arrow.  The  beauty  of  the  city  is  so  well 
known  that  I  shall  not  .attempt  any  description.  Its 
history  is  full  of  interest.  It  was  here  that  Calvin 
came,  a  refugee  from  Paris,  in  1536.  Two  years 
later  Geneva  refused  him  shelter.  He  returned  and 
soon  exercised  almost  sovereign  dominion  most  tyran- 
ically  and  intolerantly.  In  1559  he  founded  the  Geneva 
Academy  and  in  1564  he  died.  Another  citizen  of 
whom  the  town  boasts  is  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau, 
to  whose  influence  may  be  inscribed  in  a  great  measure 
the  worst  features  of  the  French  Revolution.  At  the 
instigation  of  Voltaire  his  works  were  burnt  by  the 
hangman  as  being  "temcraires,  scandaleux,  impies, 
et  tendants  a  de'truire  la  religion  chre'tienne  et  tous 
les  gouverneraents. " 

Geneva  and  its  surroundings  were  the  scene  of  the 
labors  of  the  gentle  St.  Francis  de  Sales.  He  found 
but  seven  Catholics  at  his  entrance  to  the  city,  and 
at  the  end  of  six  years  his  flock  numbered  forty  or 
fifty  thousand.  This  great  saint  was  made  bishop 
in  1599. 

It  was  evening  when  we  reached  Geneva,  and  by 
gas-light  the  town  presented  a  very  lively  appearance. 
A  stroll  over  the  long  bridge,  in  the  direction  of  the 
crowd,  brought  us  to  a  brilliantly  illuminated  garden, 
where  a  military  band  was  rendering  its  sweetest 
music,  it  seemed,  to  the  whole  population  of  Geneva. 
This  was  much  more  than  we  expected,  for  we  had  not 
sent  word  of  our  intended  visit.  Besides  this,  there 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  67 

were  many  boats,  gaily  festooned  with  Japanese  lan- 
terns, and  in  the  pauses  of  the  music  we  could  hear 
applause  far  out  on  the  lake.  All  this  was  too  good  to 
last,  and  the  elements  threw  a  damper  on  the  whole 
affair  in  the  shape  of  a  heavy  thunderstorm. 

We  stayed  three  days  waiting  for  fair  weather  to  go 
to  Mont  Blanc  and  Chamonix,  almost  a  day's  ride  by 
diligence,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 


PARAY  LE   MONIAL. 

In  itself,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  less  interesting 
place  than  Paray  le  Monial.  It  is  three  hours'  ride 
from  Macon,  on  the  slowest  railroad  in  France.  The 
accommodations  are  poor,  and  the  whole  town  bears  the 
stamp  of  squalidity.  The  little  stream  that  passes 
through  the  place  is  almost  dry,  and  forms  in  places  an 
unhealthy  marsh.  The  only  historical  feature  of  the 
town  is  the  tower  of  St.  Nicholas,  dating  from  the  ninth 
century.  So  it  is  easily  seen  that  it  is  not  the  natural 
advantages  which  Paray  offers  that  attracts  hither 
yearly  thousands  of  pilgrims  from  all  parts  of  the 
world.  No,  it  is  better  than  that,  for  it  is  the  place 
sanctified  by  the  visible  presence  of  our  Divine  Lord. 
It  was  here,  in  the  little  chapel  of  the  Nuns  of  the  Vis- 
itation, that  our  Saviour  revealed  to  Blessed  Margaret 
Mary  the  treasures  of  His  Sacred  Heart,  and  promised 
to  all  Its  precious  gifts.  These  visions  extended  over 
a  period  of  almost  twenty  years  —  1671-1690  —  that  is, 
from  the  time  this  favored  soul  entered  the  convent,  un- 
til she  went  forth  forever  to  the  immediate  possession 
of  that  Sacred  Heart  she  loved  so  well.  The  promises 
then  made  are  too  well  known  to  be  repeated  here,  and 
the  story  of  the  life  of  Blessed  Margaret  Mary,  with  its 


68  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

beautiful  lessons  of  continual  prayer  and  faithfulness  to 
duty,  is  familiar  to  all  lovers  of  that  thorn-crowned, 
wounded  Heart. 

The  chapel  of  the  Nuns  of  the  Visitation  is  quite 
small,  not  holding1  perhaps  five  hundred  persons.  It 
is  of  Gothic  style,  without,  however,  any  pillars.  The 
walls  within  are  covered  with  marble  tablets  bearing- 
inscriptions  of  thanksgivings  for  favors  received.  Hung 
about  are  many  banners  from  all  parts  of  France, 
brought  and  left  here  by  bands  of  pilgrims.  The 
sanctuary  is  very  beautiful,  and  besides  the  main  altar 
there  are  several  others.  On  the  epistle  side,  and  in 
front  of  the  main  altar,  is  the  reliquary  of  Blessed 
Margaret  Mary,  containing  a  life-size  figure  clad  in  a 
nun's  garb  and  having  a  sweet  angelic  face.  Behind 
the  altar,  and  hid  from  view,  is  the  choir  of  the  nuns, 
where  they  chant,  at  canonical  hours,  the  office  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin.  We  assisted  at  the  Holy  Sacrifice  in 
the  morning.  The  chapel  was  well  filled,  and  Masses 
were  celebrated  at  all  the  altars;  these  were  followed  in 
quick  succession  by  others,  so  that  I  think  fully  fifty 
Masses  were  offered  during  the  course  of  the  morning. 
The  nuns  were  chanting  the  Little  Hours  very  slowly, 
and  as  we  caught  the  sweet  refrain  from  that  unseen 
chorus, "Gloria — Patri — et — Filio — et — Spiritui  Sancto," 
it  seemed  as  if  Heaven's  gates  had  been  left  ajar. 
In  such  a  band,  and  in  this  very  place,  might 
Blessed  Margaret  Mary  have  been  found,  and  even 
now,  no  doubt,  she  joins  the  sisters  in  the  heavenly 
song,  for  with  her  dying  breath  she  murmured  "I 
will  sing  the  mercies  of  the  Lord  in  eternity."  We 
waited  for  several  Masses,  and  in  such  a  place,  amid 
such  surroundings,  I  trust  we  said  a  fervent  prayer. 
It  was  reluctantly  we  left  the  spot,  but  we  brought 
away  more  than  the  memory  of  its  deep  devotion  and 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  69 

the  consolation  of  knowing-  we  had  knelt  in  the  place 
sanctified  by  the  Feet  of  Jesus.  Yet  the  Sacred  Heart 
will  keep  that  secret. 

Thus  ends  the  diary  of  the  first  summer  abroad. 
Its  last  words  linger  with  us,  for  they  seem  to  be 
the  key-note  of  the  warm  and  tender  devotion  to  the 
Heart  of  Jesus  that  so  strongly  characterized  the 
young-  seminarian's  future  life.  That  Sacred  Heart 
visibly  fulfilled  its  consoling-  promises  throug-hout  his 
entire  career,  and  from  It  abundant  blessings  were 
bestowed  upon  all  his  undertaking's.  It  alone  was 
his  secure  refug-e  in  life  and  death. 

The  opening-  of  the  next  scholastic  year,  and  the 
chang-es  it  necessitated,  are  told  in  the  following- 
letters: — 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Paris, 

Oct.  12,  1888. 
My  dear  Sister: 

It  is  longer  than  usual  since  I  have  written,  but  I 
hope  you  are  not  at  all  anxious  on  my  account.  The 
reason  of  my  delay  is,  as  you  know,  a  chang-e  of  resi- 
dence, and  the  retreat,  during-  which  time  we  neither 
wrote  nor  received  any  letters.  All  is  over  now,  and 
we  are  once  more  settled  down  for  another  year's 
study.  *******  of  course  you  want 
to  know  "how  I  like  my  new  boarding--house."  First 
rate,  and  that  is  saying-  a  great  deal.  I  will  give  you 
an  idea  of  the  place.  It  is  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
city,  a  larg-e  five-story,  stone  building-,  built  in  the  form 
of  a  hollow  square.  It  is  perfectly  plain,  very  angular, 
and  bound  in  by  four  streets.  The  grounds  are  very 
much  less  than  those  at  Issy,  and  beauty  did  not 
enter  into  the  contract.  The  little  space  there  is  is 
surrounded  by  high  walls,  and  the  only  evidence  we 


70  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

have  of  the  busy  life  around  us  is  the  hum  of  the 
city  life  that  blends  with,  and  is  as  continuous  as 
the  falling-  of  water.  All  this  gives  a  solitude  than 
which  a  Trappist  could  not  desire  more.  But  I  must 
tell  you  of  my  own  luxuries,  and  how  much  more 
I  boast  of  this  year  than  I  was  able  to  do  last  year. 
First  of  all,  I  am  nearer  Heaven  by  three  stories, 
and  when  I  am  a  hundred  steps  above  the  ground 
I  am  chez  mot.  We  used  to  smile  when  father  would 
enumerate  among  the  sumptuous  fittings  of  a  house 
in  Ireland  a  slate  roof.  Well,  perhaps  you  will  laugh 
now  when  I  boast  of  a  board  floor,  a  plastered  ceiling, 
and  a  little  stove.  I  am  afraid  if  I  go  on  you  will 
not  believe  me,  so  grand  a  picture  do  I  draw.  But, 
in  fact,  all  this  is  considerable  over  here.  There 
is  still  more  to  be  told.  I  invested  in  a  rocking  chair, 
an  excellent  thing  for  one  who  likes  to  be  always 
on  the  go,  and  never  gets  far.  You  would  be  sur- 
prised to  know  how  rare  such  an  article  of  furniture 
is  in  France.  Many  of  the  seminarians  never  saw 
one  before  and  to  watch  them  throw  up  their  arms 
when  they  swing  back  is  truly  ludicrous.  Moreover, 
I  bought  a  guitar  and  some  music,  and  although  I  shall 
have  but  little  spare  time  during  the  school  year  to  use 
it,  still  I  hope  to  do  something.  The  first  tune  I  tried 
to  play  was  "Home,  Sweet  Home.  " 

For  further  particulars  of  the  house:  there  are  two 
hundred  and  sixty  seminarians  here,  and  one  hundred 
and  sixty  at  Issy.  There  are  nine  Americans,  and 
about  the  same  number  of  Irishmen  and  Scotchmen.  At 
Issy  there  are  two  for  the  diocese  of  Providence,  one 
for  Boston,  and  one  for  Manchester.  This  last  one  had 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  me  from  Bishop  Bradley. 
With  such  a  gathering  it  is  not  likely  that  we  will  get 
homesick.  Mr.  Q has  left  for  Innsbruck  *  *  * 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  71 

Just  while  I  am  writing-  this  a  domestic  thinks  he  has 
solved  the  riddle  of  the  rocking  chair.  He  pronounces 
it  a  boat  arrangement  for  taking1  exercise.  A  thing-  I 
forg-ot  to  mention  in  connection  with  my  room  is  the 
window.  It  is  more  than  six  feet  from  the  floor,  and 
is  about  a  foot  and  a  half  long-.  This  gives  me  a  view 
of  the  sky  only,  which,  although 

"it  is  glorious  and  fair 
Is  looked  up  to  the  more 

Because  Heaven  is  there." 

Our  classes  have  already  begun,  and  promise,  one 
in  particular,  to  be  very  interesting-.  I  think  this  is 
all  there  is  to  tell  of  my  new  quarters.  It  only  remains 
that  some  of  you  should  see  them.  I  do  wish  that 
Father  or  some  of  the  folks  would  come  across,  if  only 
for  a  week  *  *  *  Continue  your  prayers  for  me, 
and  be  assured  I  do  not  forget  any  of  you  in  mine. 

Your  fond   brother, 

JOHN. 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Paris, 

Oct.  28,  1888. 
My   dear   Mother : 

The  letters  and  clipping's  came  safe  and  sound,  and 
I  found  all  very  interesting-.  It  really  seems  as  time 
goes  on,  instead  of  getting  indifferent  as  to  what  is 
happening  at  home,  I  am  the  more  anxious  and  im- 
patient to  hear  all.  So  that,  if  a  letter  should  be  de- 
layed, although  I  know  it  is  a  bother  to  you  to  write  so 
often,  yet  I  begin  to  fancy  something  may  be  wrong, 
until  I  am  reassured  by  the  good  news  to  the  contrary. 
But,  be  not  alarmed  at  a  little  thing  like  this,  for  is 
it  not  a  natural  thing  to  desire  to  hear  from  you, 
Mother  dear,  and  from  those  I  love  best?  I  have  to 
smile  at  the  wonderful  importance  of  Baby .  He  is 


72  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

spoken  of  as  "coming-  down  to  spend  the  day  with  us. " 
I  suppose  this  little  chap  of  three  months  brings  his 
mother  with  him,  though  no  mention  is  made  of  the 
fact.  ****** 

There  is  nothing  new  going-  on  here  at  present.  The 
weather  continues  to  be  very  fine,  like  the  month  of 
September  at  home.  The  leaves,  however,  do  not  turn 
to  the  red  and  golden  tints  of  our  Autumn,  but  become 
deathly  yellowish,  and  a  single  puff  of  wind  breaks 
them  from  the  trees.  Our  holidays  have  been  pleasant 
and  we  go  to  Issy  for  a  walk.  The  other  day  we  had  to 
betake  ourselves  to  the  Prefect  of  Police,  and  be  in- 
scribed among  the  other  foreigners,  in  compliance  with 
a  law  just  passed  to  that  effect.  The  law  requires  that 
every  foreigner  in  France  will  appear  before  the  Pre- 
fect of  Police,  identify  himself  and  be  inscribed.  I  do 
not  know  why  this  is  done,  but  from  the  enormous 
number  of  names  inscribed,  it  seems  that  the  French 
are  justly  concerned  about  the  excess  of  foreigners, 
who  in  case  of  war  would  be  of  no  help  and  much  in  the 
way.  One  French  paper  said  that  the  number  of 
strangers  here  at  present  is,  not  including  visitors, 
180,000.  Just  think  of  it!  There  were  among  our 
party  Armenians,  Arabians,  Brazilians,  Turks  (Irish 
ones),  Scotchmen,  etc. 

Well,  Mother,  in  looking  over  what  I  have  written,  I 
find,  although  intended  for  you,  there  is  little  else  but 
the  first  three  words  that  can  be  called  yours.  I  know 
you  will  forgive  my  seeming  disregard  in  writing  in  so 
general  a  way,  and  believe  that  the  lack  of  endearment 
is  in  expression  only.  *  *  Love  to  Father  and  to 
each  one  at  home,  and  a  great  big  share  for  yourself. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

JOHN. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  73 

Seminaire  St.   Sulpice,   Paris, 

Nov.    18,    1888. 
My   dear  Baby  : 

Your  nice  long-  letter  came  to  me  several  days  ago, 
and  I  was  much  pleased  with  it.  I  am  sure  you  took  a 
great  deal  of  pains  with  it,  and  you  succeeded  first-rate; 
too  well  not  to  write  more  frequently.  I  was  glad  to 
hear  of  the  good  rank  you  got  in  school.  Why,  you 
must  be  a  marvel  in  French.  I  am  sure  if  marks  were 
given  here  I  would  not  get  half  a  hundred.  By  all 
means  write  me  a  letter  in  French  just  as  soon  as  you 

can,  even  if  it  is  only  a  page.     Try  to  beat  K ,  who, 

I  suppose  often  reads  the  little  "Imitation  "  I  sent  her. 
If  you  have  any  difficulty  with  the  language  that  cannot 
be  decided  on  that  side  of  the  water,  let  me  know,  and 
I  will  lay  it  before  the  French  Academy  over  here.  I 

hardly  recognize  C at  the  end  of  the  letter,  but  I 

suppose  you  are  getting  to  be  a  big  girl  now  and 
want  a  big  girl's  name.  Well,  that  is  no  harm,  dear, 
but  the  bigger  you  grow,  the  better  you  should  be,  and 
the  way  to  become  better  is  to  do  all  that  Mamma  tells 
you,  and  never  quarrel  to  have  your  own  way.  You 
know  that  your  patron  saint  was  Queen  of  France,  and 
all  over  here  have  a  special  claim  on  her,  so  I  will  pray 
to  her  for  her  little  namesake  on  the  other  side  of  the 
waters,  and  she  will  pray  for  me.  I  know  my  Baby 
does  not  forget  me,  and  I  send  her  and  all  at  home 
fondest  love.  *  *  *  * 

About  this  time  an  answer  to  a  friend's  letter  that 
touched  on  some  subject  of  annoyance  was  given  in 
the  usual  kind  and  charitable  manner. 

"As  to  the  affair  of  which  you  write,  let  me  say  that 
I  think  it  better  not  to  discuss  these  matters  at  all,  not 


74  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

even  among1  those  who  are  concerned  in  them.     Do  not 
blame  any  one,  let  this  be  the  glory  of  thy  tong-ue,  that 

'Falsehood's  honey  it  disdained, 
And  when  it  could  not  praise  was  chained, 
If  bold  in  Virtue's  cause  it  spoke. 
Yet  gentle  concord  never  broke 
That  silent  tongue  will  plead  for  thee 
When  time  unveils  eternity.' 

"I  do  not  mean  this  for  yourself,  for  I  never  heard  you 
speak  an  uncharitable  word,  but  some  of  those  who 
have  suffered  under  the  trial  might  tell  the  truth,  still 
this  is  not  always  to  be  spoken.  Pass  over  all  in 
silence,  and  let  all  be  forgiven  and  forgotten.  " 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Paris, 

Jan.  8,  1889. 

My  dear  F : 

Many  thanks  for  your  thoughtfulness  and  g^ener- 
osity.  I  prize  your  gift  very  much,  but  I  fear  you 
have  bankrupted  yourself  in  sending  me  such  a  re- 
membrance. You  tell  me  you  are  fond  of  reading 
history,  and  here  is  a  list  of  what  I  would  recom- 
mend to  you.  ******  i  would  advise  you, 
also,  to  take  notes  on  what  you  read,  short  ones,  of 
course,  and  in  another  letter  I  will  explain  a  system 
that  I  use.  Study  hard,  but  do  not  fail  to  take 
recreation,  for  you  will  study  the  better  after  it. 
Then,  too,  keep  an  eye  open  for  little  jobs  you  can 
do  outside  of  school  hours,  such  as  giving  some 
assistance  in  father's  store  or  running-  on  errands 
for  mother.  Be  very  faithful  to  your  religious  exer- 
cises, and  go  often  to  Holy  Communion,  and  pray 
for  me. 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  75 

To  a  little  suffering-  friend  the  following-  lines  were 
written: — 

Paris, 

Jan.  15,   1889. 


I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  have  such  confidence  in 
the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  I  know  it  will  not  be  disap- 
pointed; for  although  you  should  not  get  the  par- 
ticular favor  that  you  ask,  you  will  have  her  aid  in 
another  way.  You  are  old  enoug-h  now  to  realize  that 
even  if  others  may  help  you  with  their  prayers,  the 
granting  of  the  request  depends  in  a  great  measure 
upon  your  own  dispositions.  So  you  should  first  try 
to  be  the  best  boy  possible.  Then,  ag-ain,  you  should 
not  expect  nor  ask  for  an  extraordinary  miracle  like 
a  cure  in  a  moment.  To  be  sure  this  would  be  most 
welcome,  but  it  is  too  much  to  expect  for  the  little 
claims  we  have.  No,  should  the  cure  come  in  time 
and  in  the  ordinary  way,  we  will  not  be  less  thank- 
ful to  the  "Comforter  of  the  Afflicted."  I  shall  be 
most  happy  to  join  you  in  the  novena  to  our  Lady 
of  Lourdes.  I  hope  the  water  from  her  favored  shrine, 
which  I  sent  you  some  time  ago,  has  reached  you 
long*  before  this. 

Now,   the  last  question   you   ask  me,  dear  ,  is 

one  that  I  cannot  decide.  Do  not  make  any  rash 
promises.  You  must  consult  your  confessor,  and  do 
then  what  he  thinks  best.  If  you  decide  to  consecrate 
yourself  to  God,  consider  that  the  yoke  of  the  Lord 
is  sweet  and  His  burden  is  light.  Pray  and  reflect 
before  making  any  promise,  for  such  a  one  is  binding, 
and  must  be  fulfilled.  **********  * 
Be  a  good  boy,  and  trust  that  the  Lord  and  His 
Blessed  Mother  will  soon  make  you  well.  *  *  *  * 


76  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Paris, 

Jan.  28,  1889. 
My  dear  Sister:— 

Your  letter  was  by  no  means  the  thunder-clap  that 
you  expected  it  would  be,  for  I  had  long-  surmised  and 
expected  that  your  vocation  was  that  which  you  seem 
just  now  to  realize.  I  did  not  dwell  on  the  subject 
before,  for  I  knew  if  such  were  the  Will  of  God,  it 
would  sooner  or  later  be  made  manifest.  Another 
reason  why  I  passed  the  matter  over  in  silence,  was 
that  you  might  be  wholly  free,  and  that  no  influence 
whatsoever  would  be  brought  to  bear  upon  your  decision. 
This  is  an  important  consideration  in  the  final  choice 
of  one's  vocation,  and  when  you  are  fully  persuaded 
that  no  such  human  motive  urged  you  to  take  the 
step,  the  finger  of  God  is  easily  recognized,  and  sweetly 
and  safely  followed. 

I  can  readily  believe  that  your  decision,  dear,  was 
only  reached  after  serious  consideration,  for  you  realize 
what  it  costs;  the  almost  total  loss  of  all  your  present 
endearments,  and  that  for  aye.  Yet,  you  are  not  un- 
acquainted with  the  life  you  propose  to  lead,  for  your 
school  years  give  you  a  very  good  idea  of  it,  and  you 
must  know  in  a  manner  how  it  would  suit  your  tem- 
perament. You  did  right  in  consulting  your  confessor, 
and  should  follow  his  advice  most  implicitly,  for  such 
is  the  means  God  has  given  us  to  know  His  Holy  Will, 
and  as  long  as  we  are  under  such  guidance,  we  cannot 
go  astray.  So,  if  he  advises  you  to  go,  go  by  all  means. 
It  does  not  mean  that  this  absolutely  settles  your  vo- 
cation, and  once  the  step  is  taken  that  there  is  no 
turning  back.  By  no  means.  It  is  simply  that  you 
believe  such  is  the  Will  of  God,  and  that  you  go  to 
the  novitiate  to  await  His  final  sanction,  which,  if  it 
should  not  come,  you  will  always  have  a  home  ready  to 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  77 

welcome  you  back,  and  you  will  even  have  the  consola- 
tion of  knowing-  you  did  your  whole  duty,  and  the  happi- 
ness of  having-  spent  some  time,  be  it  long-  or  short, 
in  the  service  of  the  Master  Who  most  amply  rewards. 
So  do  not  get  too  much  frightened  at  the  prospect. 

Now,  as  to  telling-  father  and  mother.  I  am  sur- 
prised that  you  did  not  confide  in  mother,  for  I 
know  so  well  you  have  never  kept  anything-  from  her. 
Yet,  I  know  how  you  feel,  and  how  you  shrink  from 
causing-  her  any  pain.  But  now  that  you  have  decided, 
tell  her  by  all  means,  and  I  am  sure,  much  as  she  will 
feel  your  loss,  she  will  be  willing-  to  suffer  it  for  the 
greater  glory  of  God,  and  for  your  own  reward.  Father 
too,  will  do  the  same,  depend  upon  it,  and  you  need 
have  no  hesitation  about  telling  him. 

I  might  go  further,  dear  Sister,  and  enter  into  sen- 
timent on  the  subject,  and  tell  you  how  little  you 
lose  in  the  choice  you  have  made  and  how  much  awaits 
you  in  return;  but  I  prefer  to  leave  it  to  your  own 
sound  judgment  and  common  sense.  Yet  I  cannot 
but  add  one  word  that  will  comfort  you  when  weary, 
and  console  you  when  oppressed,  it  is  the  promise  of 
our  divine  Saviour,  that,  "every  one  that  hath  left 
home,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  father,  or  mother 
*  *  for  My  name's  sake,  shall  receive  a  hundredfold, 
and  shall  possess  life  everlasting."  Write  to  me  soon 
again,  and  do  not  be  afraid  to  mention  it  in  your  reg- 
ular letters.  You  ask  for  my  unworthy  prayers,  but, 
dear,  I  have  not  waited  for  the  asking-,  nor  do  I  stop 
with  it,  if  that  be  any  consolation  to  you.  May  God 
and  His  Blessed  Mother  direct  you. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

JOHN. 


78  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Paris, 

Feb.  16,  1889 
My  dear  R : 


*****!  had  received  a  letter  from  N- 


on  the  subject  you  mentioned,  and  answered  it  before  I 
received  yours,  so  perhaps  by  this  time  you  know  my 
sentiments  regarding  it.  I  can  realize  your  solicitude  for 
N—  -  in  such  an  important  step,  and  I  hope  you  will  help 
her  to  do  her  full  duty  whatever  it  may  be.  It  is  not  a 
wholly  unfounded  notion  she  has  got,  or  any  particular 
fondness  for  her  own  way,  it  is  the  advice  of  her  con- 
fessor and  her  own  convictions,  and  such  considerations 
cannot  be  disregarded  without  great  danger  of  sin. 
Yet,  as  you  say,  there  are  other  things  to  be  considered. 
I  know  the  risk  she  runs  in  mistaking  a  vocation,  and 
the  humiliation  she  would  have  to  suffer,  which  an 
unthinking  and  selfish  world  is  ever  ready  to  visit  upon 
a  few,  whose  only  fault  is,  that  they  were  but  too  quick 
to  do  what  they  believed  to  be  the  will  of  God.  I  see, 
too,  that  it  is  to  spare  her  such  sufferings  that  you 
would  have  her  wait  a  little,  until  her  own  convictions 
are  more  settled,  and  you  have  greater  proof  of  their 
stability;  in  which  case  I  am  sure  not  one  of  you 
would  put  an  obstacle  in  her  way.  I  cannot  see  any 
great  injustice  in  asking  her  to  wait  a  little,  if  you  are 
unwilling  she  should  go  at  once — but  do  not  ask  two 
years,  one  will  be  enough,  and  even  this  will  be  a 

sacrifice  for  N ,  who,  in  the  fervor  of  the  moment, 

will  count  any  delay  too  long.  She  will  not  refuse  to  do 
this  for  those  who  have  made  so  man)'  sacrifices  for 
her,  and  who  have  her  welfare  and  happiness  so  much 
at  heart.  Though  her  inclinations  should  be  other- 
wise, and  her  impatience  be  great,  she  will  have  the 
more  merit  for  the  delay.  In  the  meantime  consider 
the  heroic  sacrifice  she  will  have  to  make,  and  help 
and  encourage  her  as  you  only  can. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  79 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Paris, 

Mardi  Gras,  1889. 
My  dear  Sister: 
I   would   have  written   before,   but    I    thought    that 

the  letter  I  sent  R would  set  your  mind  at  ease. 

Be  mildness  itself  but  firm  in  your  purpose,  and 
all  will  go  well.  If  father  insists  on  you  waiting 
a  little  do  so,  and  you  will  gain  more  merit  by  the 
delay  than  by  following  your  own  inclination.  Mother 
will,  of  course,  be  loath  to  let  you  go,  but  you 
need  not  feel  at  all  concerned,  she  will  not  hesitate 
when  convinced  such  is  her  duty.  Their  only 
thought  is  for  you  and  your  future  happiness.  Con- 
sider, dear,  how  much  you  leave  behind,  and  how 
much  you  will  have  to  put  up  with.  You  have  never 
been  away  from  home,  and  in  the  change  you  will 
not  find  another  such  as  yours  has  been.  You  have 
always  had  your  own  way  and  liberty,  and  this  will 
be  so  no  longer.  This  is  one  of  the  hardest  things 
to  which  you  must  submit.  To  go  here  or  there,  to 
do  this  or  that,  and  all  without  a  question  or  a  mur- 
mur, comes  hard  at  first,  I  assure  you.  Then  in  a 
community  you  will  find  all  kinds  of  persons,  with 
all  kinds  of  dispositions.  Many  among  them  may 
not  be  to  your  liking,  perhaps  even  those  you  will 
have  to  obey  will  not  be  congenial  to  you,  and  this, 
again,  is  not  the  least  annoyance  to  be  met  with.  I 
mention  these  few  things,  not  by  any  means  to  dis- 
courage or  deter  you,  but  rather  the  contrary,  that 
you  may  begin  now  to  look  conditions  in  the  face 
and  to  prepare  yourself  to  meet  cheerfully  the  sacri- 
fice when  it  comes.  I  do  not  dwell  upon  the  conso- 
lations you  will  get  in  return,  such  as  the  conscious- 
ness of  duty  done,  and  a  security  for  your  salvation; 
these  will,  no  doubt,  occur  to  you  of  themselves. 


80  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

But  my  advice  to  you  is  to  think  over  the  matter 
seriously,  and  to  follow  what  your  conscience  dic- 
tates and  your  confessor  approves.  There  is  one 
recommendation  that  I  would  make.  It  is  to  get  for 
your  spiritual  reading-  "The  Introduction  to  a  Devout 
Life,"  by  St.  Francis  de  Sales.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  practical  books  I  know  of,  and  is  very  interest- 
ing besides.  It  was  written  to  St.  Jane  de  Chantal, 
the  foundress  of  the  Visitation  Nuns.  Her  canoniza- 
tion shows  how  sound  are  its  maxims,  and  how 
faithfully  she  observed  them.  Tell  me  from  time  to 
time  how  you  like  it. 

Mardi  Gras,  1889. 

I  believe  that  the  American  baseball  players  are  in 
town,  and  will  play  a  game  on  Thursday.  Our  pros- 
pects for  seeing  it  are  not  very  bright.  At  Rome 
the  clubs  were  received  at  the  American  College,  and 
the  students  attended  the  game  in  full  force.  The 
Frenchmen's  idea,  however,  of  the  "convenable" 
could  hardly  be  reconciled  with  such  a  vulgar  affair 
as  a  baseball  game.  ******* 

The  three  days  preceding  Ash  Wednesday  are 
ones  of  special  devotion,  offered  in  reparation  for 
the  sins  that  are  committed  during  this  time  of 
merrymaking  outside.  We  have  Exposition  of  the 
Blessed  Sacrament  and  a  solemn  procession,  so  there 
is  ample  opportunity  for  prayer.  The  Lenten  regu- 
lations are  much  the  same  as  at  home  for  ordinary 
people,  but  in  the  seminary,  according  to  the  un- 
changing and  unchangeable  usage  of  St.  Sulpice, 
Saturday  is  added  to  Wednesday  and  Friday  in 
which  to  make  thin  "faire  meaghre,"  as  they  call  it. 
I  guess  we  will  survive  this  thinning  process,  and 
come  out  upon  the  grand  conga's  after  Easter  all 
right,  and  none  the  worse  for  it. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  81 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice,  Paris, 

May  1,  1889. 
My  dear  Sister: 

Many  thanks  for  the  pretty  Easter  presents  you 
sent.  The  cards  were  indeed  nicely  painted,  and 
they,  with  the  other  gifts,  have  been  very  much  ad- 
mired. But  the  egg-s— I  guess  that  is  what  was  in 
the  separate  package — must  have  been  hatched  on 
the  way,  for  there  was  hardly  a  particle  of  shell  left 
when  it  reached  here.  *  *  *  * 

I  know  you  would  like  to  hear  something  of  our 
Easter  services.  There  is  one  ceremony  at  which 
we  assisted  during  Holy  Week  which  impressed  me 
very  greatly,  it  is  that  of  the  Veneration  of  the  Relics, 
which  takes  place  at  the  Church  of  Notre  Dame. 
These  relics  consist  of  the  real  Crown  of  Thorns,  a 
piece  of  the  true  Cross,  and  one  of  the  Nails  used 
in  the  Crucifixion.  There  can  be  no  doubt  as  to 
their  genuineness,  for  they  have  been  many  times 
authenticated,  and  during  these  hundreds  of  years 
piously  guarded  and  miraculously  preserved  from 
loss  or  desecration.  It  is  conducive  of  solemn 
thoughts  to  be  brought  so  near  the  very  instru- 
ments of  the  Passion  and  Death  of  our  Saviour. 

On  Tuesday  last  we  visited  the  Chapel  of  St. 
Lazare,  to  venerate  the  relics  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 
It  was  here  he  conducted  his  immense  charities,  and 
founded  an  order  of  priests  and  also  the  Sisters  of 
Charity.  A  figure  of  the  good  old  Saint  is  in  a 
handsome  reliquary  above  the  altar.  In  the  house 
are  shown  many  of  his  effects,  which  have  been  re- 
ligiously preserved,  and  among  them  is  his  old 
umbrella.  The  Lazarists  have  a  Salle  des  Martyrs 
like  that  of  the  Foreign  Missions.  It  consists  of 
such  mementos  as  ropes  by  which  their  mission- 


82  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

ariea  were  strangled,  cotton  soaked  in  their  blood, 
their  ashes,  etc.  These  are  a  few  of  the  sights  to 
which  we  have  access,  and  which,  as  you  may 
imagine,  are  more  conducive  to  wholesome  thoughts 
than  the  great  Exposition,  with  all  its  wonders  of 
human  ingenuity. 

We  have  had  several  grand  conge's,  which  were 
spent  very  pleasantly  at  Issy.  We  leave  here  at  six 
in  the  morning  and  return  after  supper,  and  if  the 
weather  is  fine  the  day  is  most  enjoyable. 

The  approach  of  vacation  Las  put  several  schemes 
on  foot  as  to  how  it  should  be  spent.  There  has 
nothing  definite  been  settled  yet,  but  what  is  most 
favored  is  an  extended  bicycle,  or  rather,  tricycle 
trip,  first  into  Germany  and  then  down  the  French 
sea  coast.  The  exercise  would,  no  doubt,  be  very 
beneficial  after  a  sedentary  life  of  nine  months,  and 
one  could  see  the  country  much  better  than  from  a 
railroad  train  or  on  foot.  The  great  difficulty  is  to 
get  a  machine  at  a  reasonable  price.  In  Normandy, 
by  the  seaside,  there  are  several  good-natured  cure's, 
that  take  in,  now  and  then,  stray  seminarians.  Per- 
haps we  will  pay  them  a  visit  during  the  summer. 


May,  1889. 

I  suppose  you  get  all  the  news  of  the  Exposition 
that  is  now  being  held.  About  the  only  evidence  we 
have  of  it  is  that  which  we  get,  like  yourselves,  through 
the  papers.  It  is  out  of  the  question  to  visit  it  until 
school  closes,  and  we  have  received  a  sound  lecture  to 
that  effect.  The  consequence  is  that  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  get  permission  to  leave  the  house  for  any 
purpose  whatever.  Still,  though  we  have  not  been  to 
the  Exposition  ourselves,  we  have  seen  many  who  have, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  83 

and  they  tell  us  that  the  American  exhibit  is  very  good. 
One  of  the  most  striking  features  is  a  statue  of  Venus 
of  Milo,  full  size  and  in  a  rich  brown  stone.  A  large 
sign  warns  the  visitors  not  to  touch  it,  and  on  ex- 
amining it  more  closely  one  sees  the  wisdom  of  such  a 
warning,  for  the  statue  is  made  of  chocolate,  and  any 
contact  with  it  would  soon  detract  from  its  shapeliness. 
A  soda-water  fountain  passes  for  almost  .a  curiosity. 
They  tell  us,  also,  that  there  are  genuine  Boston 
baked  beans  to  be  found  there,  and  this  makes  us  a 
little  impatient.  The  tower  looks  quite  graceful  now, 
notwithstanding  all  the  hard  things  that  have  been  said 
about  it.  I  may  be  able  to  say  more  of  the  Exposi- 
tion later  on. 

June  18,  1889. 

We  are  almost  on  the  eve  of  vacation.  There  is 
but  one  more  holiday.  I  am  writing  this  at  Issy,  for 
it  is  the  day  of  our  walk.  This  morning  we  had  a 
little  address  from  His  Eminence,  the  new  Cardinal 
of  Paris.  He  is  now  in  the  Cardinalate,  but  has  been 
Archbishop  of  Paris  for  years.  Judge  Hadley  called 
at  the  seminary,  but  unfortunately  I  was  at  Issy.  I 
am  sorry  to  have  missed  him. 


My  dear  Sister: 

I  am  very  glad  that  all  is  so  pleasantly  settled  in 
regard  to  your  leaving  home.  I  was  always  persuaded 
that  father  and  mother  once  convinced  of  the  will  of 
God  would  not,  for  a  moment,  stand  in  the  way  of  its 
accomplishment,  though  submitting  to  it  might,  at 
first,  cause  some  pain.  I  know  that  mother  will  feel 
keenly  your  going  away  and  that  she  will  miss  you 
every  hour,  and  your  absence  will  make  her  very 
lonesome;  still,  her  sense  and  reason  will  tell  her  it 


84  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

is  all  for  the  better.  Her  only  care  is  for  your  own 
sake,  and  yet,  what  more  could  she  desire  for  you 
than  that  which  is  in  store.  Where  could  be  found 
a  spouse  like  Him  whom  you  have  chosen.  If  it  is 
an  honorable  position  in  life  she  would  ask  for  you, 
why  to  serve  God  is  to  reign.  If  it  is  your  eternal 
happiness  she  seeks,  where  can  this  be  better  assured 
than  where  you  are  going?  These  considerations, 
with  the  help  of  God,  will,  I  know,  aid  her  to  let  you 
go,  and  more,  even  to  make  the  sacrifice  cheerfully. 
Am  glad  to  hear  that  you  will  not  have  to  postpone 
your  departure  further  than  January,  for  protracted 
delays  dull  one's  feelings  and  cause  needless  anxiety. 
You  have  my  continued  prayers  for  the  fulfillment  of 
God's  will  in  your  regard. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

JOHN. 

Paris,  July  9,  1889. 
My  dear  Father: 

The  vacation  has  begun  pleasantly,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  but  it  will  continue  so.  The  one  thing  that 
will  increase  its  enjoyment  will  be  to  feel  that  you 
and  mother  and  all  at  home  are  spending  some  of  the 
summer  weeks  at  the  beach. 

I  am  at  Issy  trying  to  do  a  little  of  our  vacation 
work  and  get  it  off  my  hands  before  starting  on  our 
tour.  It  is  very  pleasant  here,  and  we  have  consid- 
erable liberty.  ******* 
There  is  a  pious  custom  among  the  seminarians  that 
may  interest  you.  The  first  night  of  vacation  is 
spent  at  the  Church  of  the  Sacred  Heart  on  Mont 
Martyre,  which  was  erected  by  a  national  vow  after 
the  commune  in  1871.  The  Blessed  Sacrament  is 
continually  exposed,  and  perpetual  adoration  is  carried 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  85 

on  day  and  night.  The  seminarians  are  furnished 
with  mattresses,  and  watch  an  hour  in  their  turn. 
Mass  and  Benediction  are  sung-  at  5  A.  M.,  and  a  con- 
secration is  read  to  the  Sacred  Heart.  As  you  may 
imagine  the  whole  affair  is  inspiring-  of  devotion.  The 
spot  itself  overlooks  the  city,  and  as  its  name — the 
Mountain  of  Martyrs — indicates,  has  a  holy  significance. 
It  was  here  that  St.  Denis,  the  apostle  of  France, 
and  his  companions,  were  put  to  death.  The  church 
is  not  nearly  completed,  but  it  will  be — in  fact  is  so 
already — one  of  the  most  noted  edifices  in  Paris.  It 
is  built  wholly  by  subscription  and  stone  is  sent  from 
all  parts  of  France  to  make  it  a  thoroug-hly  national 
church.  In  the  morning  we  found  another  interest- 
ing- chapel  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  one  that  is  not 
generally  known.  It  is  the  sacred  place  where  St. 
Ignatius  and  St.  Francis  Xavier  and  Blessed  Rodri- 
guez and  a  few  others  founded  the  Society  of  Jesus. 
It  is  now  in  the  possession  of  a  little  community  of 
nuns  who  have  for  their  mission  "to  work,  to  suffer, 
and  to  pray  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory."  Another 
favorite  shrine  here  in  the  heart  of  the  city  is  Notre 
Dame  des  Victoires,  but  of  this  I  will  tell  you  later, 
I  have  been  to  the  Exposition,  but  have  not  as  yet 
mounted  the  tower,  which  is,  of  course,  the  feature 
of  it  all.  The  grounds  are  immense.  There  is  a 
railroad  for  the  different  parts  of  it.  The  buildings 
are  very  artistic,  and  it  is  difficult  to  say  which  is  the 
finest  of  them.  In  the  United  States  exhibit  Edison's 
lights  and  phonograph  have  the  greatest  space.  Among 
the  most  attractive  features  of  the  French  display  are 
two  pieces  of  Gobelin  tapestry  about  thirty  feet  by  ten 
feet.  In  design  and  color  they  surpass  anything  I 
have  ever  seen.  The  Italian  statuary  is  very  fine, 
also,  and  many  of  its  pieces  are  already  sold  to  Amer- 


86  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

icans.  There  are  frequently  200,000  persons  on  the 
grounds,  and  tickets  are  sold  for  nine  or  ten  cents. 
From  the  seminary  grounds  the  evening  illumination 
is  beautiful.  I  wish  you  could  be  here  to  enjoy  all 
with  me  ****** 

Your  dutiful  son, 

JOHN. 


A  BICYCLE  TRIP  IN  NORMANDY. 

In  the  Summer  of  1889. 
"Such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of." 

It  is  a  well  known  axiom  in  philosophy  that  nothing 
is  in  the  mind  which  has  not  come  through  the 
senses,  but  no  philosopher  has  ever  yet  succeeded 
in  laying  down  a  principle  to  explain  the  different 
combinations  of  those  impressions  once  received.  Nor 
is  it  strange  when  we  consider  what  such  a  principle 
would  have  to  cover,  from  the  airy  fancies  of  a  day 
dream  to  the  hideous  ravings  of  a  nightmare.  How- 
ever fantastic  these  may  be,  it  is  often  interesting 
and  amusing  to  trace  them  back  to  simple  ideas  and 
to  compare  these  with  the  image  that  the  dream  pre- 
sents; but  seldom  are  these  gnomes  of  dreamland 
capable  of  perpetrating  a  joke.  Yet  such  was  the 
case  with  me  the  other  night. 

It  is  now  November;  the  summer  days  have  long 
passed;  the  smiling  fields,  the  glistening  sea  and  the 
sweet  breath  of  the  kine  have  given  way  to  the  four 
stone  walls  of  the  seminary  cloister,  a  little  patch  of 
leaden  sky  and  the  cold-in-the-head  and  chill-all-over 
Parisian  fog.  The  events  of  the  summer  had  become 
a  worn  out  topic  of  conversation;  we  had  even  ceased 
to  think  about  them.  This  night  of  which  I  speak, 
I  dreamed  I  was  talking  to  some  one  about  the  close 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  87 

of  the  Universal  Exposition,  and  he  mentioned  many 
attractions  that  were  to  crown  its  last  days.  Among 
them,  a  man  was  to  jump  from  the  top  of  the  Eiffel 
Tower  to  the  ground.  "With  what  hope  of  success?" 
said  I.  "Why  does  he  think  he  can  jump  from  the 
height  of  a  thousand  feet  to  the  ground  and  live?" 
"Oh!"  said  my  somnambulistic  informant,  "he  is  a 
bicyclist."  The  explanation  seemed  to  satisfy  me 
perfectly,  and  I  felt  that  if  anyone  in  the  world  could 
perform  so  terrible  a  leap,  it  was  a  bicyclist. 

I  could  not  but  smile  audibly,  as  they  say,  in  awaken- 
ing, and  the  remembrance  of  two  twisted  elbows,  a 
scraped  shin,  and  a  sore  back,  marked  the  places 
where  these  impressions  entered,  caused  as  they  were 
by  a  bicycle.  Well,  I  thought,  after  all  there  was 
some  truth  in  the  dream;  "some  method  in  the  mad- 
ness." But  I  am  anticipating  matters.  Let  us  com- 
mence at  the  beginning.  It  was  the  morning  of  July 
14th,  the  Frenchmen's  "Fourth,"  and  this  happened 

to  be  Sunday.     Mr.   H and   myself  took  the   six 

o'clock  train  for  Trouville  Sur  Mer.  We  arrived  in 
time  to  hear  Mass  in  a  large,  though  plain,  church, 
situated  on  a  high  hill  overlooking  the  town  and  visi- 
ble from  quite  a  distance  to  the  sea.  The  interior 
was  decorated  with  gaudy  banners  and  streamers  of 
yellow,  red,  and  blue;  the  singing,  for  it  was  a  Solemn 
Mass,  was  done  principally  by  the  congregation  and 
some  dozens  of  school  children.  And  such  singing! 
A  saw  when  it  encounters  a  nail  in  a  plank  is  sweet 
music  to  such  discordant  sounds.  Organ,  choir,  chil- 
dren, old  salts,  all  had  a  different  key  and  each  his 
own  time.  It  was  difficult  to  keep  a  straight  face, 
but  all  about  us  looked  serious  enough  and  seemed 
rather  entranced  by  the  dulcet  strains.  If  these  good 
people  wish  to  so  honor  and  praise  le  Bon  Dieu,  well 


88  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

then,  "soit,"  as  they  say,  we  have  no  reason  to  com- 
plain. 

The  town  proper  bears  the  stamp  of  antiquity,  and 
the  principal  business  of  the  place  seems  to  be  fish- 
ing1. The  old  hulks  with  their  blackened  sails,  lined 
one  side  of  the  main  street  which  lies  along1  a  little 
inlet.  Invariably  they  bore  some  religious  emblem: 
as  a  cross  on  the  mainmast,  or  a  little  statue  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  on  the  prow.  The  usual  contingent 
of  loungers  and  old  salts,  with  their  weather  eye 
peeled,  hung  around  to  see  that  no  one  ran  off  with 
these  "greyhounds  of  the  deep." 

But  such  were  not  the  attractions  that  brought  us 
hither.  There  is  besides  quite  a  fine  beach.  A  few 
miles  of  a  stretch  of  golden  sand  is  marked  off  by 
two  long  piers  that  stretch  far  out  to  sea.  Along  the 
shore  is  a  light-house,  some  fine  large  hotels  and  cafe's; 
behind  these,  among  the  trees  and  rising  above  them, 
are  many  picturesque  villas.  On  one  side,  a  steep 
bluff,  and  on  the  other  an  inlet  or  river  runs  well 
into  the  townj  and  at  high  tide  admits  the  boat  from 
Havre.  On  this  high  bluff  that  overlooks  the  sea,  the 
beach  and  the  town,  is  a  handsome  bronze  crucifix, 
which  forms  a  striking  figure  against  a  background 
of  clear  sky. 

We  spent  a  few  days  here  quite  pleasantly,  our 
principal  occupation  being  to  watch  the  myriads  of 
children,  for  this  seems  to  be  a  children's  paradise, 

"Build  their  castles  in  dissolving  sand, 
To  watch  them  overflowed,  or  following  up 
And  flying  the  white  breakers,  daily  left 
The  little  footprints,  daily  washed  away." 

Yes,  these  little  "parlez  vous,"  with  their  shovels 
and  pails  and  nets,  worked  like  corals  all  day  long. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  89 

One  thing1  remarkable  about  the  bathing1  here  is, 
that  the  women  and  men  have  separated  portions  of 
the  beach.  We  were  forcibly  reminded  of  this,  when 
sauntering  along1  we  were  accosted  by  an  old  fellow 
who  gesticulated  furiously  and  ordered  us  off  the 
place,  for  we  had  unconsciously  gotten  within  the  en- 
closure for  women.  Unless  they  are  good  swimmers, 
the  women  are  usually  accompanied  by  a  hired  bather, 
sometimes  a  woman,  sometimes  a  man. 

I  will  not  stop  to  describe  our  landlady;  suffice  to 
say  that  she  was  the  most  thrifty  and  stingy  person 
I  ever  met.  She  measured  everything,  from  our  appe- 
tites to  our  candles.  A  great  shanghai  bonne,  as  long 
in  doing-  anything  as  she  was  in  stature,  completed 
the  manage. 

For  several  days  back,  I  had  been  trying  to  per- 
suade Mr.  H that  he  was  a  born  bicyclist,  and 

that  all  he  needed  was  a  machine.  At  first  he  would 
not  listen  to  anything  like  a  bicycle  trip,  but  one  day 
in  examining  some  machines,  we  suddenly  struck  a 
bargain  and  agreed  to  take  a  tandem  in  the  morning 
for  a  trip  of  a  week. 


THE  TRIP. 

The  loungers  along  the  old  quay  this  morning  might 
have  seen  two  hardy  cyclists  in  flannel  shirts  and 
crush  hats,  a  bag,  two  overcoats,  and  an  umbrella 
strapped  on  behind,  move  down  the  principal  street 
at  a  rather  cautious  gait,  with  a  kind  of  weak-kneed 
motion,  and  in  a  somewhat  uncertain  course.  It  was 
not  without  some  difficulty  that  we  managed  to  steer 
clear  of  houses  and  wagons,  but  we  did  so,  and  once 
on  the  highway  we  had  the  road  to  ourselves.  I  will 
not  attempt  to  describe  the  figures  we  cut;  suffice  to 


90  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

say  it  was  mighty  hard  work  and  not  very  graceful. 
The  pedal  movement  resembled  more  the  turning-  of 
a  grindstone  than  the  working  of  a  bicycle.  A  pain 
in  the  knees  made  us  slow  up  and  we  soon  became, 
so  to  speak,  most  accurate  levels,  so  that  an  imper- 
ceptible incline  in  the  road  would  bring  us  to  a  dead 
stop.  The  sun  beat  down  unmercifully  upon  us,  and 
every  passing  w.igon  gave  us  a  mouthful  of  dust. 
Sometimes  an  old  fellow  along  the  roadside  would 
cry  out  that  the  one  behind  wasn't  doing  any  of  the 

work.      Then,  of  course,  I  would  give   Mr.   H a 

talking  to  and  tell  him  I  thought  it  went  rather  hard, 
until  the  next  swain  would  say  it  was  the  man  behind 
that  was  doing  all  the  work.  Then  it  was  Mr. 

H 's  turn  at  me.     But  for  all  that,  we  were  more 

than  repaid  for  the  fatigue.  It  was  a  glorious  ride. 
The  road  lay  along  the  sea,  and  now  and  then  from 
the  top  of  a  hill  offered  a  most  magnificent  prospect! 
The  sunbeams  dancing  on  the  waves,  the  shadow  of 
the  clouds  giving  different  colors  to  the  water,  and 
one  chasing  the  other;  the  sails  now  flashing  in  the 
sunshine,  now  hiding  in  the  shadow ;  the  sky  seem- 
ing but  another  sheet  of  overhanging  water;  all  was 
most  charming,  and  now  and  then  a  cool,  refreshing 
breeze  came  from  the  sea. 

At  one  of  the  turnpikes  was  an  antique  chapel. 
We  descended  to  make  a  visit  to  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment. The  building,  a  most  antiquated  structure,  had 
been  recently  restored.  On  the  inside  of  the  porch 
were  the  names  of  a  hundred  or  more  nobles  who 
accompanied  William  the  Conqueror  in  his  conquest 
of  England.  He  was  born  hereabouts.  The  chapel 
stands  quite  alone  and  there  was  no  one  who  could 
give  us  any  information  about  its  history  or  import- 
ance, and  I  feel  it  has  both. 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  91 

Such  was  the  road  we  followed  until  we  reached 
Carbourg,  a  little  after  noon.  Here  we  had  dinner, 
and  after  we  had  stretched  our  lengths  upon  the  sand 
we  determined  to  push  on  as  far  as  Caen.  Things 
went  along  smoothly  for  awhile,  but  after  the  exercise 
of  the  morning  we  soon  wilted.  Evening  found  us  afoot, 
dragging  the  machine  after  us,  and  sorry,  that,  since 
we  had  to  walk  we  had  not  left  it  at  home.  We  had 
expected  that  the  machine  would  carry  us,  and  here 
we  were  carrying  the  machine.  At  length,  the  spires 
of  Caen  appeared,  and  we  mounted  again  to  make  a 
triumphal  "entre,"  but  the  first  pavements  we  en- 
countered gave  each  particular  bone  a  voice,  and  down 
again  we  had  to  come.  We  found  a  hotel,  we  were 
not  "difficile"  at  that  moment,  and  after  a  hasty  supper 
made  for  bed.  We  had  covered  fifty-four  kilometres, 
or  about  forty  miles  from  10  A.  M.  to  7.30  p.  M.  It 
was  not  a  bad  run  for  the  first  time,  but  we  paid  for 

it  afterwards.     Mr.  H could   not  stand  up  and  I 

could  not  sit  down.  "Few  and  short  were  the  pray- 
ers we  said,"  and  sleep  never  came  quicker  nor  was 
ever  sweeter  than  that  night. 


CAEN. 

Caen  is  a  fine  old  historic  town  of  about  forty  thou- 
sand inhabitants;  and  was  the  favorite  seat  of  William 
the  Conqueror.  Several  old  churches  date  from  his  time 
(llth  century)  and  though  somewhat  dilapidated,  their 
graceful  spires  still  rise  majestically  and  present  a 
charming  view  from  a  distance.  The  most  noted  of 
these  are  Abbaye  Aux  Hommes  where  William  was 
buried.  (William  died  a  horrible  death,  suffering  and 
alone.  When  placing  his  body  in  the  sarcophagus  in 


92  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

the  church,  the  place  was  somewhat  narrow.  A  few 
attendants  jumped  upon  the  coffin  to  force  it  into  place, 
when  it  burst  and  the  putrid  remains  of  the  conqueror 
were  scattered  over  the  floor.  The  stench  drove  the 
people  from  the  church.  At  the  time  it  was  regarded 
as  a  punishment  from  God  for  the  evils  he  had  caused 
the  church.)  The  Abbaye  Aux  Dames  is  a  monument 
to  his  wife.  The  characteristics  of  these  churches 
seem  to  be  their  high  and  pointed  vaulting  and  their 
extreme  narrowness*  The  house  of  Charlotte  Corday 
is  also  shown.  A  character  not  quite  so  celebrated 
as  any  of  those  mentioned,  yet  not  without  some  in- 
terest, is  the  little  light-haired  Monsieur  1'  Abb£,  whom 
we  met  last  year  in  Switzerland,  and  who  is  stationed 
here  at  the  Church  of  St.  Pierre.  Unfortunately  he 
was  not  to  be  found,  or  we  would  have  had  a  pleasant 
time  with  himself  and  his  Mamma  for  Auld  Lang  Syne. 
We  were  more  refreshed  in  the  morning  than  we 
had  expected,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  forenoon 
headed  westward.  But  not  before  we  had  sent  all  our 
baggage  back  to  Trouville,  as  we  found  enough  to  do 
to  carry  ourselves. 


THE  SMASH-UP. 

Once  limbered  up  a  little  and  relieved  of  our  bag- 
gage, we  made  quick  work.  The  national  roads  are 
simply  magnificent,  straight  as  an  arrow,  even  and 
broad,  and  shaded  by  rows  of  trees  on  both  sides, 
and  hills,  for  the  most  part,  quite  gentle.  Along  we 
sped,  working  "like  niggers"  uphill,  and  letting  our- 
selves go  at  full  speed  down  the  other  side.  It  was 
most  exciting  and  enjoyable,  but,  as  we  found,  most 
reckless.  Those  who  have  never  been  on  one  of  these 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  93 

machines  cannot  realize  the  speed  they  attain;  I  am 
sure  a  runaway  horse  does  not  go  so  fast.  We  had 
toiled  up  a  hill,  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  almost  an 
hour  in  doing-  so  and  hard  work  it  was,  but  we  prom- 
ised ourselves  a  glorious  "coast"  on  the  other  side. 
At  last  we  came  to  the  top;  not  a  soul  was  in  sight 
and  a  fine  stretch  of  road  lay  before  us.  There  was, 
however,  near  the  foot  a  covered  wagon  drawn  up  on 
the  roadside  which  served  as  a  habitation  for  some 
wandering  tinker  or  gypsy.  This  was  soon  well  out 
of  our  way  and  down  'we  started.  Faster  and  faster 
we  went.  I  was  in  front,  not  a  word  was  spoken, 
and  we  both  held  on  for  dear  life.  Down,  down  we 
went  with  the  speed  of  a  railroad  train.  Noiselessly 
as  we  descended,  we  were  not  unperceived.  When 
nearing  the  covered  wagon  a  little  imp  of  a  dog  started 
across  the  road,  barking-.  He  mistook  our  velocity. 
I  tooted  the  horn  and  shouted;  but  it  was  no  use;  we 
struck  him  squarely,  ran  over  him  and  then — here 
is  a  picture  of  what  happened.  The  front  wheel, 
bent  like  a  cobweb,  turned  to  the  side  of  the  road, 
into  a  hedge  and  ditch  we  went  and  "spilled";  that 
is  the  best  word  I  can  use  to  express  the  toss  we 
got  all  over  the  ground.  I  was  thrown  off  to  one  side 
and  covered  several  metres  on  my  back,  while  Mr. 

H took  a  somersault  over  the  brake.     As  soon  as 

we  got  our  breath,  each  inquired  if  the  other  was 
hurt,  and  both  set  to  work  to  find  broken  bones. 
Thank  the  Lord,  none  were  found.  The  damage  con- 
sisted of  only  a  breaking  of  the  skin  here  and  there. 
The  bicycle  was  a  sad-looking  wreck.  The  hind  wheel 
would  turn,  that  was  all.  By  the  time  we  bad  made 
this  examination,  the  owner  of  the  dog  and  his  wife 
came  along  to  sympathize  with  us.  What  we  could 
not  say  to  the  dog  we  said  to  his  master,  and  in  no 


94  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

measured  terms.  Of  course  it  was  no  fault  of  his, 
but  rather  our  own  recklessness  that  put  us  in  such 
a  plight.  Here  we  were,  way  in  the  country,  eight 
miles  from  a  railroad  and  but  a  few  farmhouses  in 
the  vicinity,  with  a  worse  than  useless  machine,  and 
almost  broken  leg's  in  the  bargain.  I  will  not  linger 
on  the  details  of  what  followed;  how  we  dragged  the 
machine  several  miles  along  the  road;  how  the  village 
blacksmiths  shook  their  heads — they  could  shoe  a 
horse,  but  a  horse  like  that  they  had  never  seen 
before;  how  all  the  "gamins"'  in  their  wooden  sabots 
trotted  after  us,  before  us,  and  around  us.  At  length 
there  was  but  one  thing  to  be  done,  get  to  Bayeux, 
twelve  kilometres  away,  and  try  to  find  some  one  to 
fix  us  up.  Off  we  went  in  a  tip-cart,  machine  and 
all.  It  was  now  evening,  and  the  long,  cold  drive  was 
anything  but  agreeable.  Our  Jehu,  however,  gave  us 
some  interesting  news  on  the  state  of  religion  here- 
abouts, and  simple  countryman  as  he  was,  showed  that 
his  few  years  in  the  army  had  relieved  him  of  what- 
ever religious  ideas  he  once  might  have  had.  He 
never,  of  course,  suspected  that  we  were  ecclesias- 
tics. I  hope  the  poor  country  cure's  have  few  parish- 
ioners like  this  fellow. 


BAYEUX. 

Bayeux's  halcyon  days  are  long  gone.  It  is  a  dull, 
dead,  dirty  town  of  about  ten  thousand  inhabitants, 
but  it  boasts  of  a  real  gem  of  a  cathedral,  one  of  the 
five  chef-d'ouvres  of  Europe.  It  ranks  with  that  of 
Amiens  and  Chartres.  It  has  lately  been  restored, 
and  is  in  excellent  condition,  but  I  fear  that  the  chill 
penury  of  the  public  funds  froze  the  genial  currents 
of  the  architect's  soul,  for  the  profuse  ornamentation 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  95 

that  marks  its  school  is  sadly  wanting  in  its  restora- 
tion. A  musical  chime  struck  the  quarter-hours,  and 
in  the  stillness  of  night  produced  a  pleasing-  effect. 

Longfellow  has  feelingly  described  the  emotions  that 
these  sweet  midnight  bells  arouse  and  the  fond  mem- 
ories they  awake: 

"Perchance  a  sleepless  wight 
Lodging-  in  some  humble  inn, 
In  the  narrow  lanes  of  life, 
When  the  dark  and  hush  of  night 
Shut  out  the  incessant  din 
Of  daylight  and  its  toil  and  strife, 
May  listen  with  a  calm  delight, 
Intermingling  with  the  song 
Thoughts  that  he  had  nourished  long, 
Hears  amid  the  chime  and  singing 
The  bells  of  his  own  village  ringing, 
JP1  And  wakes  and  finds  his  slumbrous  eyes 

Wet  with  most  delicious  tears." 

Sunday  we  assisted  at  Mass  here,  and  were  struck 
by  the  emptiness  of  that  beautiful  temple.  The  na- 
tives of  the  place  know  the  value  of  their  church,  but 
have  learned  it  from  strangers.  In  speaking  to  a  hotel 
keeper  who  was  lauding  the  work  to  the  sky,  we  asked 
him  about  some  little  detail.  This  he  could  not  tell, 
and  acknowledged  that,  although  living  here  ten  years, 
and  this  being  the  principal  monument  of  the  place — 
to  say  nothing  of  the  claims  of  religion — he  had  never 
been  inside  the  door.  In  a  little  museum  is  kept  a 
piece  of  tapestry,  the  most  authentic  account  of  the 
history  of  the  Conquest  of  England  by  William  the 
Conqueror.  It  is  made  of  coarse  linen,  230  feet  long 
and  20  inches  wide,  and  was  worked  by  Queen  Matilda, 
his  wife.  It  seemed  to  me  to  have  more  historic  than 
artistic  value  and  looked  like  a  child's  sampler. 


96  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

ST.  Lo. 

After  a  tedious  delay  of  three  days  at  Bayeux,  we 
got  away,  and  this  time  we  were  not  a  little  cau- 
tious. It  was  a  pleasant,  easy  road,  and  part  of  it 
ran  through  a  deep  forest,  which  is  extremely  rare 
in  France.  Long  before  we  got  within  some  distance 
from  the  town,  we  met  dozens  of  wagons  coming  from 
the  fair.  It  was  always  the  two-wheel  "carriole," 
as  they  call  it,  though  more  like  a  tip-cart  than  like 
our  wagon  of  the  same  name.  In  the  town  all  was 
hurry,  and  bustle,  and  noise;  the  streets  and  places 
were  lined  with  booths  and  crowded  with  people. 
What  do  you  suppose  the  principal  commodity  was? 
No  less  than  human  beings.  It  was  "Domestics'  day," 
when  all  the  servants,  both  men  and  women,  for  miles 
around,  come  hither  once  a  year  to  seek  employment. 
The  women,  of  course,  look  their  tidiest;  they  dress 
mostly  in  "the  customary  suit  of  solemn  black"  with 
a  neat  little  lace  cap  about  the  size  of  one's  hand,  and 
have  all  their  earthly  effects  in  a  bandanna  handker- 
chief. The  men  wear  a  frock  of  shiny  blue  stuff. 
The  "paterfamilias" — you  can  easily  recognize  him 
by  his  aldermanic  proportions  and  bon-homme  swag- 
ger— looks  over  this  human  live-stock  as  he  would  a 
cow  or  a  horse  and  offers  a  price  for  the  year's  ser- 
vice, which  is  usually  about  sixty  dollars.  There  they 
barter  away,  and  if  a  bargain  be  struck,  off  they  all 
go  in  the  inevitable  carryall.  There  was,  however,  a 
conveyance  that  amused  us  more  than  this.  It  was  a 
little  donkey  with  a  woman  on  his  back,  and  a  child 
in  a  hamper  on  each  side. 

It  was  dusk  when  we  left  St.  Lo,  and  we  determined 
to  make  a  night  ride  to  Coutence.  A  trip  by  night 
was  at  least  a  novelty,  and  the  cool  of  evening  allowed 
us  to  make  up  some  of  the  time  we  lost  by  accident. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  97 

In  climbing  some  of  the  steep  hills  we  hitched  on  to 
a  dray  and  talked  politics  with  the  bumpkins.  It  was 
amusing  to  hear  their  appreciation  of  General  Bou- 
langer  and  the  Republic.  We  found  them  mostly 
Monarchists.  The  Normandy  accent  became  more 
and  more  noticeable;  that  is,  they  pronounce  oi  like 
ai,  and  it  is  sometimes  puzzling-,  though  they  under- 
stand the  proper  pronounciation  without  difficulty. 

We  came  very  near  passing  Coutances  in  the  dark, 
but  fortunately  found  some  late  birds  about,  who  put 
us  on  the  right  track  before  we  got  far  astray.  It 
was  midnight  when  we  climbed  the  steep  streets  of 
the  town.  After  a  cup  of  tea  we  rolled  in. 


GRIMOVILLE  AND  M.  LE  CURE. 

Some  people  are  famous  for  the  places  whence  they 
come;  thus,  the  meanest  slave  from  the  antipodes,  or 
the  country  of  Emin  Bey,  would  be  of  considerable 
interest  in  the  United  States.  Others  impart  a  fame 
to  the  place,  which  but  for  them  would  find  no  record 
in  the  book  of  fate.  But  for  Shakespeare  we  would 
never  have  heard  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  and,  had  not 
Goldsmith  sung  "Sweet  Auburn,  loveliest  village  of  the 
plain,"  would  be  drowned  in  a  thousand  other  little 
towns  upon  a  railroad  map,  or  some  stage-coach  route. 

The  Cur£  of  Grimoville  is  by  no  means  the  black 
from  the  Antipodes,  neither  is  he  quite  a  Shakespeare, 
yet,  to  him  Grimoville  owes  a  fame,  that  without  him  it 
would  never  acquire.  You  would  look  in  vain  upon 
the  map  for  this  place;  the  sign-posts  on  the  road  for- 
get to  mention  it;  yet  there  has  not  been  an  English, 
Irish,  Scotchman,  or  American  in  St.  Sulpice  for  some 
years  back,  to  whom  Grimoville  has  not  been  the  Utopia 


98  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

of  vacation.  Naturally  enough,  being-  in  this  part  of 
the  country  we  had  some  curiosity  to  see  the  place, 
though  we  feared  we  would  scandalize  the  Curd,  for 
we  looked  more  like  two  tramps  than  two  seminarians. 
We  wore  sack  coats,  flannel  shirts,  and  had  not  shaved 
for  three  weeks. 

It  was  about  noon  as  we  wound  in  between  the  little 
shanties  with  their  mud  walls  and  thatched  roofs,  per- 
haps fifty  in  number,  that  constitute  the  town  of  Grimo- 
ville.  The  street — in  fact  there  was  but  one — was  as 
crooked  as  a  ram's  horn  and  yet  the  little  ones  would 
tell  us  "Tout  droit,  Messieurs!  Tout  droit. "  With  our 
accustomed  body-guards  of  gamins,  all  that  were  in 
the  town, — I  doubt  if  one  was  missing — we  came  to 
the  neat  little  house,  beside  an  old  Norman  church 
and  separated  from  it  only  by  the  small  burying 
ground. 

The  Cure'  was  not  at  home.  His  prim  little  house- 
keeper, in  the  regulation  lace  cap  and  monstrous  jaw 
strings,  received  us  good  naturedly,  and  fired  a  volley 
of  questions  at  our  heads.  Among  the  first  "Were 
we  not  seminarians?"  No  prevarications  would  do, 
so  we  finally  confessed.  She  came  to  the  gate  to  see 
our  bicycle.  You  should  have  seen  the  children  run, 
helter-skelter,  and  such  whistling  and  cat-calls  as  they 
scampered  off,  and  she  shaking  her  fist  and  calling 
after  them.  A  poor,  deaf  curate  showed  us  about  the 
place  and  kept  us  company  until  the  Cure  arrived. 
He  did  so  shortly,  and  with  him  a  seminarian  from  the 
Irish  College.  They  had  been  fishing,  and,  with  ac- 
customed success,  had  caught  one  fish  between  the  two. 
(In  fishing,  the  Cure'  never  used  a  hook,  perhaps  he 
did  not  want  to  hurt  the  fish.  The  bait  consisted  of 
about  a  half-dozen  worms  tied  in  a  knot  with  a  string. 
This  was  thrown  into  the  water,  and  when  the  bite 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  99 

was  felt,  it  was  drawn  carefully  to  the  side  of  the  boat, 
then  a  sudden  jerk  given,  and  if  the  bait  was  tangled 
in  the  teeth  or  stuck  in  its  throat,  the  fish  was  caught. 
This  manner  of  doing  things  may  account  for  his 
success.)  The  first  sight  we  got  of  him  was  very 
disappointing.  We  expected  a  jolly,  little  fellow,  and 
here  he  was  lank,  lean,  and  as  solemn  as  a  judge.  We 
had  scarcely  recovered  when  we  sat  down  to  dinner. 
It  would  require  Dickens  or  Washington  Irving  to 
describe  that  meal.  There  was  the  old  Cure  in  the 
middle;  opposite  the  deaf  curate,  M.  1'  Abbe  as  they 
called  him;  atone  end  of  the  table  the  madame,  prim 
as  ever,  and  at  the  other  end  an  old  salt,  le  capitaine, 
with  clean  shaven  face  and  throat  whiskers,  who  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  Micawber;  we  were  distributed 
between  these  around  the  table.  Mine  host  did  the 
honors  right  royally,  clad  in  a  shiny  soutane,  a  huge 
napkin  around  his  neck,  a  pair  of  blue  spectacles  always 
on  his  forehead.  Anon  he  pinched  from  a  gigantic 
snuffbox,  or  struggled  with  two  cats  or  the  dog  for 
the  possession  of  his  napkin.  There  was  a  quiet  streak 
of  humor  in  the  old  man,  yet  he  never  laughed  and 
seldom  smiled,  but  no  one  enjoyed  a  good  story  more 
than  he.  And  what  was  most  strange,  he  never  turned 
his  head  when  he  spoke,  but  looked  at  one  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye.  He  told  us  of  his  trip  to  Rome,— 
no  one  had  ever  been  to  Grimoville  who  had  not  heard 
that  story,  once  at  least. 

In  the  middle  of  an  enthusiastic  description  of  St. 
Peter's,  the  old,  deaf  Monsieur  1'  Abbe',  who  heard  not 
a  word,  would  suddenly  break  in  and  declare  that  the 
price  of  cider  would  go  up  next  year.  The  madama, 
too,  ventured  a  correction  now  and  then,  and  Monsieur 
Capitaine  always  came  in  with  a  "conQrmatur"  when 
his  mouth  was  full.  Thus  all  went  merrily,  the  more 


100  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

so  as  the  dinner  went  on,  and  from  the  clock  over  our 
heads  a  little  cuckoo  crowed  ten  quarter  hours  before 
we  left  that  table. 

I  could  fill  many  pages  with  the  drolleries  of  the 
rest  of  that  day  and  evening-,  but  I  must  hurry  on.  At 
six  in  the  morning  we  assisted  at  Mass  in  the  little 
rickety  church,  and  to  our  great  surprise  we  found 
the  Cur^  singing  Mass,  with  the  deaf  vicaire  for  a  choir, 
and  but  one  poor  old  woman  for  a  congregation.'  The 
choir  was  not  always  happy  in  the  responses,  for  he — 
the  choir — followed  only  the  motions,  and  heard  not  a 
word;  so  if  the  Cure  would  draw  himself  up  and  cough, 
the  choir  would  respond  "Deo  Gratias."  The  Cure,  in 
his  turn,  served  as  choir  for  the  vicaire,  and  thus  there 
were  two  chanted  Masses  every  morning. 

The  Cure'  had  an  old,  deaf  sexton,  who  thought  that 
everybody  in  a  soutane  was  a  priest  and  a  cure'.  One 
morning  an  American  seminarian  came  into  the  church, 
and  as  soon  as  the  old  man  saw  him  he  started  to 
ring  the  bell,  thinking  he  was  going  to  say  Mass.  Mr. 

M caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  told  him  that  it  was 

not  time  for  Mass.  The  old  fellow  looked  at  him  a 

moment  and  started  for  the  bell.  Mr.  M caught 

him  again,  and  shouted  that  it  was  not  time  for  Mass, 
but  no  sooner  had  he  released  his  hold  of  him  than 

off  he  went  for  the  bell  rope.  Mr.  M put  after 

him  this  time,  bellowed  into  his  ear  that  he  should 
not  ring  for  a  half  hour  yet,  but  seeing  even  this  made 
no  impression  he  took  out  his  watch  showing  that  it 
was  now  eight  o'clock,  and  when  the  hands  should  get 
around  to  8.30,  then  he  should  ring.  The  old  fellow 
looked  at  him  with  disgust,  and  said  laconically  as  he 
walked  off  "II  fallait  le  dire!"  "Why  didn't  you  say  so?" 

It  was  reluctantly  that  we  bade  the  Cure  good  bye 
towards  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  With  many 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  101 

thanks  for  his  kind  hospitality,  and  most  pressing  in- 
vitations for  an  early  return,  we  said  not  "adieu"  but 
"au  revoir. " 


GRANVILLE. 

It  was  a  delightful  road  that  we  followed;  for  a 
considerable  distance  it  ran  close  to  the  sea,  and  a 
bracing-  breeze  from  off  the  water  helped  us  to  make 
good  time.  At  almost  every  cross-road  a  crucifix  was 
to  be  found, — a  sight  very  common  through  Normandy, 
but  hereabouts  they  were  more  artistic  than  any  we 
had  yet  seen.  The  cross  and  the  figure  were  both 
cut  from  the  same  stone  and  stood  about  fifteen  feet 
high.  A  little  plot  of  grass  and  neat  curbing  at  the 
foot  formed  inviting  halts  for  the  tired  wayfarer.  A 
few  miles  outside  of  Granville  we  struck  a  magnifi- 
cent military  road,  straight  as  an  arrow,  level  as  a 
table,  and  for  the  most  part  on  a  high  plateau  over- 
looking the  sea.  The  heavy  clouds  had  begun  to 
gather,  and  as  we  sped  along  we  could  see  their  shad- 
ows chasing  each  other  over  the  waves,  and  now  and 
then  a  white  sail,  scarce  visible  before  in  the  shade, 
would  flash  into  the  sunshine,  and  again  drop  into 
the  shadow. 

"Now  dark  in  the  shadow  she  scatters  the  spray, 

As  chaff  in  the  stroke  of  the  flail; 
Now  white  as  the  sea-gull,  she  flies  on  her  way, 
The  sun  gleaming  bright  on  her  sail." 

It  was  evening  as  we  wound  slowly  down  the  ser- 
pentine road  that  descends  to  the  town.  For  the  space 
of  several  hundred  yards  the  high  bluff  had  shutout 
the  sea  from  view,  but  of  a  sudden,  just  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  a  rent  in  the  rock,  about  fifty  feet  wide 
and  spanned  by  a  slender  bridge,  formed  a  frame- 


102  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

work  for  the  golden  sunset;  bright  waves,  dotted 
here  and  there  with  a  snowy  sail,  and  near,  a  little 
strand  with  variegated  bathing  tents  and  fairly  brist- 
ling with  activity.  I  never  remember  seeing  a  scene 
more  charming.  It  was  more  like  a  picture  than  a 
reality. 

There  are  two  parts  to  the  town,  the  old  and  the 
new.  The  former  is  very  picturesque.  It  crowns, 
as  a  kind  of  citadel,  a  huge  rock  which  overlooks  the 
sea,  and  in  the  center  rises  the  spire  of  an  antique 
church.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  massive  wall  and  the 
approaches  are  drawbridges  and  portcullis. 

We  had  plenty  of  leisure  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of 
Granville,  so  much,  in  fact,  that  for  a  time  they  lost 
all  their  charms  for  us.  For,  like  Moore's  ship  that 
"sailed  gallantly  on,  but  from  which  at  eve  the  waters 
were  gone,"  so  were  we  stranded.  The  Vanderbilts 
and  Rothschilds  of  this  town  would  not  cash  our  notes; 
then,  one  sent  to  Paris,  owing  to  a  mistake,  had  to  be 
sent  to  London,  and  in  the  meantime,  down,  down, 
went  our  finances,  until  we  had  but  one  sou — a  cent — 
between  both  of  us,  and  a  week's  board  bill  to  our 
account.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  Granville  lost  its 
charms?  A  pawnbroker  in  English  is  commonly  called 
"My  Uncle,"  in  French  it  is  "Chez  Ma  Tante";  an- 
other day  and  we  would  have  made  her  acquaintance. 

At  last  the  money  arrived.  What  a  change  came 
over  the  face  of  the  place !  The  sun  seemed  brighten 
the  sky  bluer,  and  the  grass  greener  since  we  got 
some  money  in  our  empty  pockets,  and  we  proved  to 
ourselves,  that,  after  all,  the  appreciation  of  beauty 
is,  in  no  small  measure,  subjective. 

We  had  flattered  ourselves,  of  late,  that,  in  such  a 
rig  as  ours,  with  an  air  as  nonchalant  as  possible, 
we  could  pass  for  natives,  but  alas!  One  day  while 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  103 

passing1  through  a  side  street,  a  little  girl  frorn  an 
upper  window  called  to  a  companion,  "Pauline,  Paul- 
ine, venez-voir  deux  biftecks."  ("Come  and  see  two 
beefsteaks.") 

Pleased  as  we  were   to  get  to   Granville,  we  were 
the  more  so  to  get  away. 


MOUNT  ST.  MICHAEL. 

In  the  arm  of  a  beautiful  bay,  scarce  less  beautiful 
than  that  of  Naples,  at  a  distance  of  about  a  mile  and 
one  half  from  shore,  Nature  has  let  fall  a  gigantic  rock, 
and  there  it  has  stood  unmoved,  unshaken  by  the  waves 
that  beat  and  the  tides  that  for  centuries  have  come 
and  gone,  and  which  are  to  it  but  as  time  is  to  eternity. 
Such  a  work  is  a  monument  to  the  Creator.  But  later, 
upon  this  there  arose  another,  the  work  of  human 
hands;  it  was  a  temple  worthy  of  the  true  God.  Per- 
haps in  this  wide  world  there  is  no  more  fitting  spot, 
nor  one  better  suited  to  express  God's  supreme  do- 
minion over  the  land  and  over  the  sea,  and  all  things 
therein,  than  this.  Mount  St.  Michael  is  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  monuments  of  architecture  in  Europe. 

The  cathedral  has  for  its  foundation  this  solitary 
rock  that  rises  three  hundred  feet  from  out  of  the  water. 
About  its  base  and  leaning  against  the  rock  is  a  little 
town,  kept  from  being  swept  off  with  the  sea  by  a  ram- 
part flanked  with  towers.  A  single  street  that  never 
echoed  to  a  horse's  tread  follows  the  wall,  and  is  all 
the  town  can  boast.  Many  of  the  houses  are  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  population  is  not  large,  yet  almost 
to  a  person  turns  out  en  masse  as  the  tourist  comes 
in  sight,  and  such  a  hubbub  and  pulling  here  and  there 
by  men  and  women,  was  never  seen.  We  afterwards 


104  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

discovered  how  it  happened  that  we  were  so  well(?) 
received.  A  watch  is  stationed  on  the  rampart  above 
and  at  the  approach  of  a  victim,  gives  a  sign  by  a 
horn.  Formerly  the  only  approach  to  the  Mount  was 
by  a  boat  or  over  the  beach  at  low  tide,  but  a  few  years 
ago  a  road  was  built,  much  to  the  disgust  of  artists 
and  archaeologists. 

The  sea-bed  here  is  very  flat  and  shallow,  and  the 
tide  comes  and  goes  very  quickly;  within  a  few  minutes 
the  space  of  two  hundred  miles  square  is  covered  with 
water.  At  low  tide  a  circuit  of  the  island  can  be  made 
on  the  sand,  but  over  a  few  places  one  is  carried  by 
a  bare-legged,  long-haired,  eccentric  individual  in  a 
Tarn  O'Shanter  hat  and  red  sash,  who  calls  himself 
the  Count  of  Somewhere  and  lives  alone  on  a  solitary 
isle  in  the  bay. 

We  arrived  in  time  to  accompany  the  last  group 
through  the  building.  A  few  words  of  the  history  of 
the  place  may  give  additional  interest  to  what  we  saw. 

This  Mount  has  always  been  considered  as  a  sacred 
spot.  As  early  as  the  sixth  century,  St.  Pair,  Apostle 
of  this  country,  founded  a  monastery  here.  In  the 
year  708,  St.  Michael,  Archangel,  appeared  to  Aubert, 
Bishop  of  Avaranches,  and  bade  him  raise  to  him  a 
sanctuary  on  this  spot.  Child bert  III.  confided  to  St. 
Michael  the  protection  of  his  kingdom.  Hither  nearly 
all  the  kings  of  France  have  repaired,  among  them 
Charlemagne  and  St.  Louis.  Numerous  pilgrimages 
from  the  surrounding  countries  flocked  thither.  These 
were  always  on  foot;  they  came  chanting  hymns  and 
sounding  trumpets,  and  decked  out  with  medals,  shells, 
etc.,  which  were  preserved  as  relics  of  the  holy  place. 
At  the  crowning  of  St.  Michael  in  1877,  twenty-five 
thousand  persons  were  present.  From  the  begining 
of  the  century  until  1863  Mount  St.  Michael  was  a 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  105 

prison  of  state,  during1  which  time  it  was  almost  de- 
stroyed as  a  monument  of  architecture.  From  1865 
to  1886  it  was  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  bishop  of 
Coutances.  At  this  latter  date  it  was  turned  over  to 
the  minister  of  Beaux-Arts. 

The  building-  is  a  massive  affair,  consisting  of  three 
parts,  quite  distinct  in  every  respect  and  placed  one 
above  the  other. 

The  rock  on  which  it  is  built  protrudes  into  the 
center  and  gives  the  structures  there  irreg-ularity. 
The  side  that  is  shown  in  the  picture  I  am  sending 
is  called  "La  Merveille".  Here  are  two  vast  apartments 
on  each  side  of  the  three  landings,  supported  by  grace- 
ful Gothic  columns,  which  give  them  the  appearance 
of  a  church.  Thus  they  have  remained  during  six 
centuries,  as  a  monument  of  religious  and  military 
architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Here  is  shown  a 
huge  wheel,  about  twenty-five  feet  in  diameter,  which 
served  as  a  treadmill,  and  was  used  to  lift  provisions 
to  the  prisoners.  It  is  regarded  as  a  new  Ixion's 
wheel  for  the  torture  of  unfortunates,  and  consequent- 
ly has  attached  the  usual  number  of  blood-curdling 
tales.  The  wheel  was  worked  from  the  inside  by  the 
weight  of  the  men;  six  or  eight  could  enter  at  a  time. 

The  "Salle  des  Chevaliers"  is  perhaps  the  best  part 
of  the  building;  almost  a  hundred  feet  long,  it  could 
go  at  once.  It  dates  from  the  fifteenth  century,  when 
were  founded  the  Knights  of  St  Michael,  in  honor  of 
him —  "qui  pour  la  querella  de  Dieu  victoricusement 
batailla  coutre  le  Drag-on,  ancien  ennemi  de  nature 
humnine  et  le  trebucha  du  ciel." 

The  cloister,  or  rather  "le  cloitre,"  which  does  not 
mean  precisely  the  same  thing-,  is  a  charming-  piece 
of  work.  I  am  sending-  a  view  of  it.  Open  in  the 
center  to  the  sky,  its  Gothic  roof  is  covered  with  tiles 


106  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

of  different  colors,  and  supported  by  a  double  row  of 
polished  granite  pillars,  each  of  which  is  crowned  by  a 
graceful  rosette,  and  no  two  are  alike.  Through  the 
long,  narrow  slots  in  the  outer  walls  a  glimpse  of 
the  sea  and  sky  is  obtained.  Beneath  all  this  are  the 
"cachots,"  or  dungeons.  Black  and  dismal  holes  they 
are!  One  of  them  about  four  and  one  half  feet  high, 
and  arched,  about  three  feet  deep  and  five  feet  long, 
was  closed  with  an  iron  grating,  and  called  The  Cage. 
It  would  not  permit  one  to  either  stand  or  lie.  Again 
the  usual  number  of  tales. 

As  I  have  said,  at  low  tide  you  can  make  a  tour  of 
the  isle  on  the  sand.  In  doing  so  you  will  meet  dozens 
of  fisherwomen  with  their  nets  on  their  backs,  their 
dresses  tucked  up  almost  to  their  knees,  their  bare 
legs  browned  by  the  sun.  At  the  extremity,  on  a  few 
rocks,  is  the  hermitage  of  St.  Aubert,  who  began  the 
present  building  in  honor  of  the  archangel.  After 
having  made  the  tour  once,  it  is  a  relief  to  get  free 
from  chattering  guides  and  importunate  venders,  and, 
in  the  rich  glow  of  the  setting  sun  from  the  parapet 
beneath  to  watch  the  changing  light  and  shadow  upon 
the  grand  old  pile. 

We  lingered  here  till  night  came  on,  and  one  by  one 
the  stars  came  out.  Though  the  queen  of  the  heavens 
did  not  lend  her  enchantment  to  the  scene,  still  the 
soft  starlight  and  a  clear  sky  hung  like  a  canopy  over 
all,  while  the  pinnacles  of  the  church  above,  softened 
by  the  gathering  darkness  were  lifted  heavenward,  like 
hands  clasped  in  prayer. 


SASSBTOT. 

From  St.    Malo  we  doubled  on  our  tracks  and  re- 
turned   to    Trouville  without    stopping,  and    the    day 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  107 

following-  we  started  for  Sassetot  which  is  a  little  town 

north  of  Havre,  on  the  coast.     Mr.  H had  a  laugh 

at  my  sea  going-  qualities  in  crossing-  the  indentation 
to  Havre.  A  trip  that  costs  but  seventeen  cents  and 
takes  but  an  hour,  yet  so  rough  that  many  of  the  pass- 
engers could  not  contain  themselves — I  among-  the  rest. 
It  was  nevertheless  amusing-  to  hear  on  all  sides 
"Lapriste'I  parbleu!  Voila  un  brave  matelot,"  as,  one 
after  another  like  Sir  Joseph  Porter,  K.  C.  B.,  would 
"seek  the  seclusion  that  the  cabin  grants."  When 
taking-  the  train  at  Havre  at  noon,  an  individual,  with 
a  child  in  his  arms  was  trying1  to  pass  the  guard  by 
showing  a  ticket  for  Paris  althoug-h  this  train  was 
bound  north.  Each  time  he  was  put  back,  the  g-uard 
telling-  him  he  would  have  to  wait  three  hours,  but 
the  poor  fellow  understood  not  a  word,  and  each  time 
replied  in  broken  Eng-lish,  "Boot,  my  vife  iz  on  zat 
train."  The  other  answered  "a  trois  heure  et  demi," 
"a  trois  heure  et  demi."  We  afterwards  found  out 
that  this  poor  chap  was  a  German-Swiss  coming-  all 
the  way  from  California  to  Switzerland  with  a  wife  and 
five  children.  He  was  a  laborer  and  had  then  been 
three  weeks  on  the  road. 

But  for  Sassetot  we  were  bound,  to  make  a  little 
unexpected  call  upon  some  half  dozen  of  our  friends, 
who  in  this  quiet  nook 

"Far  from  the  madding  crowd's  ignoble  strife," 
whiled  the  summer  days  away.  We  found  them  at  a 
little  villag-e  inn,  comfortably  installed  and  enjoying- 
themselves  immensely.  The  surprise  over,  we  settled 
down  for  a  while  at  least  with  our  friends,  for  Auld 
Lang-  Syne,  and  enjoyed  the  genuine  hospitality  of 
true  Scotchmen. 

It  is  a  charming-  spot.  Far  from  the  hurry  and 
bustle  and  noise,  the  people  preserve  their  simple 


108  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

customs  and  manners  while  the  great  stream  of  inces- 
sant change  sweeps  by  almost  unnoticed.  Another 
"Sleepy  Hollow,"  it  is  like  those  nooks  of  still  water 
which  border  a  rapid  stream  where  we  may  see  the 
straw  and  bubble  riding-  quietly  at  anchor  or  slowly 
revolving  in  their  mimic  harbor,  undisturbed  by  the 
rush  of  the  passing  current.  No  shriek  of  the  loco- 
motive, no  hum  of  busy  industry  breaks  in  upon  its 
Sunday  stillness.  At  morning1,  noon,  and  eventide  the 
chapel  rings  out  the  Angelus  and  scatters  blessings 
over  all  the  place  as  a  priest  does  with  the  hyssop. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  brings  you  to  the  shore, 
making  bold  front  to  the  sea  in  high,  perpendicular 
white  chalk  cliffs.  'Twas  hereabout  we  spent  the  days 
upon  the  beach  or  in  a  little  cabin  that  we  could  call 
our  own.  The  hours  were  truly  sunny  ones.  Some- 
times even  here  the  tolling  of  the  church-bell  reached 
us  to  claim  a  prayer 

For  some  souls'  serene   release, 
That  the  weary  spirit  may  be  at  peace, 
When  the  tide  goes  out. 

You  can  tell,  too,  by  the  ring-ing1  whether  it  be  a  man 
or  a  woman  or  a  child  that  is  "in  extremis." 

I  have  said  there  reigns  a  Sunday  stillness  here,  yet 
on  every  day  but  Sunday.  This  is  market  day,  and 
long  before  we  were  out  of  bed  in  the  morning1  we 
could  hear  from  beneath  the  window  always  in  the 
same  sing-strain,  "Quatre  sous  la  livre,  la  grande  livre! 
Voici  Mesdames,  quatre  sous  la  livre,  la  grand  livre!" 
Here  were  the  butcher,  the  baker,  the  fruitier,  the 
whatnot,  each  in  his  little  stall  along  the  street  banter- 
ing away  with  the  thrifty  housewives  for  the  next 
week's  goods.  We  soon  made  the  acquaintance  of  M. 
le  Cure'  and  found  him  very  agreeable.  He  dined  with 
us  one  day,  and  we  had  the  indelicacy  to  beat  him  in 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  109 

a  game  of  billards.  The  fact  that  it  was  the  curd's 
first  game  accounts  for  his  beating.  The  first  Sunday 
we  were  there  the  cure  put  a  cope  on  me  and  decked 

Mr.  H out  in  a  soutane  and  a  surplice,  although 

we  both  had  beards  of  considerable  length.  Mr.  H. 
took  up  the  collection  and  got  the  handsome  sum  of 
7^  francs,  about  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents.  During 
the  week  my  birthday  came  around  and  the  boys  in- 
sisted on  celebrating  it  as  a  double  of  the  first  class 
with  an  octave  and  we  did  so. 

Although  I  felt  inclined  to  prolong  my  stay  at 
Sassetot,  a  letter  I  received  showed  it  would  be  im- 
possible. I  had  previously  made  arrangements  to  meet 

Mr.  B and  Mr.  M at  Cologne  on  the  twentieth 

of  August,  and  that  day  was  at  hand.     So  off  I  went 

leaving  my  old  friend  Mr  H. to  enjoy  a  little  longer 

the  quiet  of  the  country  and  the  cool  sea-breeze. 


AMIENS — BRUSSELS — NAMUR. 

I  arrived  at  Amiens  towards  evening,  but  had  to 
wait  until  midnight  for  a  train  for  Brussels. 

The  cathedral  of  the  13th  century  is  perhaps  the 
choicest  little  gem  in  France.  Its  distinctive  feature 
seems  to  be  fineness  of  detail.  The  front  is  pierced 
by  three  deep  portals  most  elaborately  sculptured. 
Within,  behind  the  altar,  is  a  figure  of  a  weeping 
cherub — "enfant  pleureur  " — on  a  mortuary  monu- 
ment, which  is  said  to  be  worth  its  weight  in  gold. 
At  night  I  spent  a  few  hours  at  the  circus,  and 
found  it  so  interesting  as  to  almost  miss  the  train. 

I  got  to  Brussels  about  five  in  the  morning,  found 
a  church  without  difficulty,  and  already  a  good  num- 
ber of  pious  souls  were  awaiting  Mass  to  begin. 


110  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

The  streets  at  early  morning1  present  a  curious 
sight.  There  are  dozens  of  little  carts  filled  with 
brass  milk  cans  and  drawn  by  dogs.  They  are  in- 
variably attended  by  women,  and  go  from  house  to 
house  quite  by  themselves,  they  know  the  route  so 
well.  The  palace  of  the  King  and  the  Government 
buildings,  with  their  domes  and  massive  marble 
columns,  occupy  an  elevation,  and  are  seen  from 
almost  every  part  of  the  town.  The  streets  are 
broad  and  beautiful,  scarce  less  so  than  the  principal 
ones  of  Paris. 

I  was  very  anxious  to  visit  the  Field  of  Waterloo, 
which  is  about  ten  miles  from  here,  but  found  I 
could  not  do  so  and  reach  Cologne  on  time.  All  that 
is  to  be  seen  there,  however,  is  a  large  mound  with 
a  lion  on  the  top  of  it.  It  is  a  Belgian,  not  a  British 
lion. 

Namur  is  about  four  hours  ride  on  an  omnibus 
train  from  Brussels,  and  it  is  a  city,  I  should  judge, 
of  about  fifty  thousand  inhabitants.  Found  the 
mother-house  of  the  Sisters  of  Notre  Dame  without 
any  difficulty,  and  called  for  an  American  sister 
whose  name  I  had.  I  must  have  scared  her  half  to 
death.  It  was  about  five  minutes  before  we  got  well 
started  talking.  She  seemed  to  think  every  moment 
I  was  going  to  ask  her  for  something  to  eat,  nor  do 
I  wonder,  for  I  looked  like  a  tramp.  I  wore  a 
flannel  shirt,  hammock  hat,  a  green  overcoat,  a 
broken  umbrella,  a  month's  growth  of  a  beard,  and 
was  wet  as  a  rat.  When  I  told  her  I  had  been  over 
here  several  years  she  was  more  non-plussed  than 
ever.  After  some  time,  to  relieve  her  I  told  her  that 
I  was  making  my  studies  with  the  Sulpicians  at 
Paris.  "Ah,"  said  she,  visibly  relieved,  "then  you 
are  in  good  hands."  She  seemed  to  think  that  if 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  111 

anyone  could  do  anything-  for  so  hopeless  a  case  it 
was  the  Sulpicians.  It  is  thirteen  years  since  she 
was  in  America,  and  her  English  gave  proofs  of  the 
fact.  She  was  sorry  that,  owing  to  the  sisters' 
retreat,  she  could  not  show  me  about  the  place,  nor 
the  tomb  of  Mother  Julia.  I  think,  however,  that 
she  was  a  little  ashamed  of  me,  nor  do  I  in  the  least 
blame  her.  Never  saw  so  many  sisters  at  a  time — 
in  the  street,  on  the  train,  everywhere  and  every 
kind.  I  began  to  realize  what  this  g-ood  sister  told 
me — that  although  Belgium  is  but  the  size  of  the 
State  of  Rhode  Island,  there  are  more  Sisters  of 
Notre  Dame  in  it  than  in  the  world  beside. 


UP  THE  RHINE. 
COLOGNE. 

Passing  through  Belgium  you  hear  the  country  peo- 
ple speak  a  language  that  resembles  French  very 
much;  it  is  the  Flemish,  and  although  unintelligible 
to  me,  it  was  far  more  agreeable  than  the  harsh  gut- 
tural  of  Deutschland,  where  little  by  little  I  was 
reduced  to  absolute  silence. 

It  was  evening  when  I  reached  my  destination;  then 
came  the  hunt  for  my  friends.  My  first  move  was  to 
find  the  post-office  to  seek  further  directions.  But 
how  was  I  to  get  there?  The  plan  I  had  of  the  town 
was  too  small  to  be  intelligible,  and  although  I  could 
manage  enough  German  to  inquire  the  road,  I  could 
not  make  out  the  directions  given.  What  was  to  be 
done?  Suddenly — a  la  bonne  heure — a  mail-wagon 
hove  in  sight.  Now  the  mail-wagon  and  the  post-office 
ought  to  have  some  connection,  so  here  's  a  go.  Off 
I  put  after  the  wagon.  It  was  no  easy  matter  to 
keep  it  in  sight,  but  I  managed  to  do  so  for  some 


112  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

time, — long-  enough,  alas!  to  find  it  was  leading-  me 
somewhere  into  the  country;  it  must  have  been  coming 
from  the  post-office,  not  going-  to  it,  so  I  was  farther 
off  than  ever.  Well,  I  found  a  hotel,  and  postponed 
the  search  until  morning-.  By  the  aid  of  the  clerk  I 
found  the  post-office  and  the  instructions  necessary, 
and  a  few  minutes  later,  my  two  friends.  Here  I 

cast  anchor;  my  troubles  were  over.  Mr.  B spoke 

Dutch  like  a  native.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe 
the  town,  Baedeker  does  that.  The  photograph  I  am 
sending  is  a  view  across  the  river.  The  bridge  is 
built  on  boats,  and  may  be  opened  to  pass  steamboats 
and  barges  through.  We  bad  intended  to  go  up  the 
river  in  a  row-boat,  but  found  the  stream  so  strong 
as  to  render  such  a  scheme  utterly  impossible. 

Besides  the  Cathedral,  there  are  several  churches 
of  note;  the  most  famous  is  that  of  St.  Ursula,  which 
contains  the  bones  of  this  Saint  and  her  eleven  thou- 
sand virgin  companions,  who  were  martyred  by  the 
barbarians  when  returning  from  Rome.  In  the  church 
itself,  besides  several  altars  full  of  these  bones,  there 
are  sarcophagi,  equally  full.  One  room,  about  thirty 
feet  square,  is  decorated  and  frescoed  in  the  most 
fantastic  style  with  these  human  relics.  The  picture 
enclosed  will  give  an  imperfect  idea  of  the  arrange- 
ment. The  busts  are  in  brass  and  contain  skulls; 
the  case  in  the  center  holds  the  relics  of  St.  Ursula. 
I  think  it  was  Mark  Twain  who  wanted  the  guide  to 
come  down  a  little  on  the  number,  but  he  wouldn't 
take  off  a  rib. 

In  the  Museum  is  the  original  portrait  of  Queen 
Louise,  who,  by  her  charms  and  beauty,  tried  to 
soften  the  heart  of  Napoleon  and  to  obtain  favorable 
terms  for  her  conquered  country.  The  picture  is 
that  of  a  young  woman  descending  a  few  steps;  she 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  113 

is  clad  in  a  Grecian  robe,  the  hair  bound  by  a  fillet, 
and  a  large  star  above  the  forehead.  Even  in  a  photo- 
graph, it  makes  a  beautiful  picture,  but  the  warm, 
rich  colors  of  the  original  make  a  painting,  that,  for 
my  taste,  has  few  equals. 

The  Cathedral  is,  of  course,  the  greatest  feature  of 
the  place.  It  is  esteemed  as  the  finest  Gothic  church 
in  the  world.  In  it  seem  to  be  united  all  that  is  beau- 
tiful and  sublime  in  art.  The  slender  fluted  columns, 
the  majestic  vault,  airy  lightness,  and  imposing  sta- 
bility, well  lighted  from  above  and  beneath  by  immense 
windows — the  roof  is  supported  by  the  flying  abut- 
ments, leaving  the  walls  scarcely  more  than  windows 
— all  show  to  what  perfection  this  style  may  be 
brought.  From  without  the  building  is  no  less  impos- 
ing, and  may  be  seen  for  miles  around.  The  front 
has  three  portals;  around  and  above  these,  like  the 
pipes  of  an  organ,  taper  tiers  of  slender,  Gothic  pin- 
nacles, until  they  terminate  in  two  most  graceful 
spires.  High  Mass  is  sung  here  every  day  at  eleven, 
and  the  best  possible  order  preserved,  which  is  not 
the  case  in  the  churches  of  France.  The  town  is 
almost  entirely  Catholic,  and  the  processions  of  the 
Assumption  were  the  most  elaborate  affairs.  Thou- 
sands of  men,  women,  children,  priests,  religious,  and 
bands  of  music  and  choirs  filled  the  streets.  Bene- 
diction of  the  Blessed  Sacrament  was  given  in  many 
places  on  an  altar  erected  in  the  middle  of  the  street. 
The  houses  were  decorated,  and  all  was  carried  on 
with  the  greatest  decorum  and  religion. 


114  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

THE   RHINE. 

"A  blending  of  all  beauties;  streams  and  dells 

Fruit,  foliage,  crag,  wood,  cornfield,  mountain-vine, 
And  chiefless  castles  breathing  stern  farewells 
From  gray  but  leafy  walls,  where  Ruin  greenly  dwells." 

—  Childe  Harold. 

The  first  view  we  got  of  the  river  was  from  the 
Cathedral  tower.  At  this  point  the  Rhine  is  more 
majestic  than  beautiful.  It  is  over  four  hundred  yards 
in  width;  its  waters  of  a  bluish  green  hue,  and  the 
current  is  very  rapid.  The  country  about  is  flat  and 
uninteresting.  A  few  particulars  will  help  the  better 
understanding-  of  a  Rhine  trip.  The  most  picturesque 
and  most  frequented  part  of  the  river  is  between 
Mayence  and  Cologne,  a  distance  of  about  one  hun- 
dred miles.  Going  down  the  river  the  trip  is  made 
in  seven  and  one-half  hours,  while  it  takes  twelve  to 
go  against  the  stream.  The  steamboats  are  large  and 
fast;  the  price  of  transportation  is  moderate. 

After  leaving  Cologne  the  river  bank  begins  to  rise 
gradually,  and  a  little  further  on,  about  opposite 
Bonn,  swells  into  proportions  pretentious  enough  to 
be  called  the  Seven  Mountains,  though  a  Swiss  would 
hardly  so  designate  them.  The  hill  sides  are  green 
with  the  vine,  the  low  lands  yellow  with  corn.  On 
the  river,  here  and  there,  is  a  huge  raft  of  logs,  a 
trim  little  steamboat,  or  a  ferryman  making  amid- 
stream  to  put  aboard  or  to  land  a  passenger. 

DRACHENFELS. 

The  "Dragon's  Rock,"  rising  almost  a  thousand 
feet  above  the  river,  and  crowned  by  a  dismantled 
ruin,  looked  so  inviting  that  we  determined  to  climb 
it,  and  so  left  the  boat  at  Konigswinter.  At  the  foot 
of  the  hill  are  half  a  dozen  little  donkeys,  in  bright 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  115 

saddles  and  bridles,  ready  to  give  the  lazy  a  lift,  and 
bare-legged  urchins  with  a  good-sized  stick  are  ready 
to  coax  them  over  the  road.  We  took  "shank's 
mare."  When  about  half-way  up  an  amusing  inci- 
dent happened.  We  were  straggling  along  the  road, 
I  happened  to  be  ahead,  when  one  of  those 

««     *    *    *    peasant  girls  with  deep  blue  eyes, 
And  hands  which  offer  early  flowers  " 

(though  in  this  case  it  was  not  flowers  that  she 
offered,  nor  would  I  swear  that  her  eyes  were  blue), 
came  out  from  a  little  house  on  the  roadside,  bearing 
a  number  of  crowns  of  oak  leaves,  and  before  I  could 
realize  it  she  had  it  on  my  head.  Then  she  started 

to  crown  Mr.  M ,  but  he  had  seen  my  fate,  and 

wanted  none  of  it.  To  say  I  felt  sheepish  in  such  a 
decoration  is  putting  it  mildly,  and  I  doubt  if  Caesar 
refused  that  kingly  crown  as  promptly  as  I  did  this 
one  of  leaves.  The  girl  took  it  back  reluctantly,  and 

Mr.  B ,  our  interpreter,  said  she  felt  hurt,  but  I 

did  not  recover  my  own  equilibrium  in  time  to  soothe 
her  ruffled  feelings.  What  this  crowning  operation 
meant  I  will  never  tell,  but  I  have  often  been  sorry 
since  that  I  did  not  keep  it  for  a  souvenir.  For  a 
crown  like  this  how  the  poets  and  heroes  contended! 
It  was  the  only  one  that  Apollo  wore,  and  it  is  the 
only  one  that  I  will  ever  get.  It  was  a  nobler 
insignia  than  the  leather  medal  my  prowess  once 
won. 

The  view  from  the  summit  is  the  finest  I  ever  saw. 
The  hills  around  us,  the  river  beneath,  the  fields, 
villages,  and  cities  beyond,  above  us  a  mellow  sky, 
while  nearer  the  horizon  hung  heavy  clouds  whose 
edges  were  of  gold  and  soft  fleecy  whiteness.  Now 
and  then  the  sunshine  burst  through  a  rift  like 
a  glory,  and  threw,  like  a  benediction,  a  streak  of 


116  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

light  over  hill  and  valley.  Even  while  we  looked  upon 
this  delightful  scene  the  picture  changed.  A  storm 
arose  out  of  the  west,  its  path  was  distinctly  visible. 
Wider  and  wider  grew  its  circle  of  sheets  of  rain; 
over  the  river  it  came,  and  the  waters  seemed  to  rise 
to  meet  it  in  little  white-capped  waves;  in  another 
instant  it  was  down  upon  us,  and  we  had  to  put  for 
shelter.  The  ruin  on  the  highest  point  is  nothing 
but  a  few  walls.  The  descent  was  made  on  the 
inclined  railway.  The  better  to  put  ourselves  in 
conformity  with  the  surroundings  we  had  a  little 
bottle  of  the  Drachenblut,  "dragon's  blood,"  for 
supper,  and  put  up  for  the  night. 

"The  castled  crag-  of  Drachenfels 

Frowns  o'er  the  wide  and  winding  Rhine, 
Whose  breast  of  waters  broadly  swells 

Between  the  banks  which  bear  the  vine : 
And  hills  all  rich  with  blossomed  trees, 

And  fields  which  promise  corn  and  wine, 
Are  scattered  cities  crowning  these, 

Whose  far  white  walls  along  them  shine, 
Have  strewn  a  scene  which  I  should  see 

With  double  joy,  wert  thou  with  me." 

—  Childe  Harold. 

APOLLINARIS. 

I  confess  it  was  neither  the  poetry  of  the  name 
nor  any  famed  scenery  'of  the  place  that  influenced 
us  to  make  a  stopping  here.  It  was  but  the  curiosity 
to  see  the  establishment  of  the  "Apollinaris  Company, 
Limited,"  and  which,  after  all,  we  did  not  see.  It 
must,  however,  be  an  immense  concern,  as  fifty 
thousand  bottles  are  filled  daily.  Here  we  had  a 
good  laugh  at  the  expense  of  our  guide.  On  landing 
we  were  surrounded  by  some  dozen  hotel  porters, 
each  urging  the  advantages  of  his  own  hotel.  We 
gave  them  no  encouragement,  and  two  or  three  near 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  117 

by  began  to  pass  remarks  among-  themselves  not 
very  complimentary  to  us.  Our  guide  would  not 
stand  that,  so  up  he  posted  to  the  nearest  one,  and, 
glaring  at  him,  asked  (translating  the  French  idiom 
into  German),  "Was  haben  sie?" — "What  have  you 
got?"  meaning  "What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  The 
man  addressed  touched  his  hat,  looked  sober  as  a 
judge,  and  replied,  "Wir  haben  goodes  beer  von 
fass  " — "We  have  good  beer  on  draught." 

What  attracted  and  took  up  our  attention  was  a 
handsome  little  Gothic  church  on  the  summit  of 
the  hill.  Along  the  path  leading  to  it  are  stations  of 
the  cross  which  terminate  by  a  calvary  in  front  of  the 
church.  Around,  there  are  several  grottos  such  as 
the  "Agony  in  the  Garden,"  the  "Taking  down  from 
the  Cross,"  etc.,  and  shells  of  many  colors  and  de- 
signs form  a  work  of  great  patience  and  ingenuity. 
The  church  is  quite  new  and  admirably  kept.  The 
head  of  St.  Apollinaris  is  in  the  crypt.  One  could 
almost  divine  that  none  but  patient,  plodding  monks 
could  have  and  keep  a  place  like  this,  did  not  a  large 
statue  of  St.  Francis  on  the  summit  of  the  rock,  and 
here  and  there  a  moving  figure  like  unto  that,  betray 
the  secret  of  owners. 

COBLENZ. 

Coblenz  is  a  town  of  considerable  importance  and 
prettily  situated  at  the  junction  of  the  Rhine  and  the 
Moselle.  The  most  striking  feature  of  this  place  is 
the  fortification  of  Ehrinbreitstein  perched  like  an 
eagle's  nest  on  an  almost  inaccessible  rock.  It  was 
from  here  that  we  got  a  splendid  view  of  the  surround- 
ing country.  We  could  trace  the  windings  of  both 
rivers  far  in  among  the  hills  and  fertile  valleys,  and 
could  count  a  score  of  towns.  The  waters  of  the 


118  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

Moselle  are  much  darker  than  those  of  the  Rhine,  and 
so  gently  does  the  former  creep  along  the  bank,  that  for 
fully  five  miles  after  their  meeting1  their  waters  are 
quite  distinct.  In  a  square  in  front  of  the  church  of 
St.  Castor,  dating  from  the  twelfth  century,  is  a  mon- 
ument that  was  erected  by  the  French  in  1812,  and 
bears  the  inscription,  "Memorable  par  la  campagne 
centre  les  Russes."  Two  years  later  the  place  was 
taken  by  the  Russians,  and  the  commander,  with 
exquisite  irony,  added  to  the  inscription,  "Vu  et 
approuvi  par  notre  Commandant  Russe  de  la  ville  de 
Coblenc,  1  Jan.,  1816.  The  monument  itself  answers 
equally  well  for  both,  being-  but  a  square  kind  of 
pedestal. 

We  had  intended  to  make  a  little  excursion  up  the 
Moselle,  as  recommended  by  a  friend,  but  at  this 
time  there  was  no  boat  running-  up  the  river,  so  we 
contented  ourselves  with  a  row,  more  to  test  the 
force  of  the  current  than  for  any  enjoyment  that 
could  be  g-otten  out  of  it.  The  experiment  convinced 
us  that  had  we  started  up  the  river  in  a  rowboat  we 
would  still  be  at  Cologne,  or  more  likely  twenty 
miles  the  other  side  of  it. 

LtJRLEI. 

Lurlei,  so  famed  in  song  and  story,  is  an  imposing 
rock  a  little  beyond  St.  Goar,  and  rises  about 
four  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Here  the  river  is 
narrowest  and  deepest — seventy-six  feet.  A  sunken 
ledge,  over  which  the  water  rushes  and  seethes, 
forms  a  miniature  whirlpool,  and  at  this  point  a  pilot 
is  needed  to  take  the  boat  through.  The  legend  is 
that  a  nymph  dwelt  on  the  rock,  and,  like  the  sirens  of 
old,  lured  sailors  and  fishermen  to  their  destruction  in 
the  rapids  below.  Heine  (,1823)  is  the  author  of  the 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  119 

ballad  "  Loreley,"  so  justly  popular.  Almost  opposite, 
visible  at  low  water,  is  a  ridge  of  rocks  known  as 
the  Seven  Virgins,  said  to  have  been  seven  fair 
maidens  of  the  Schonburg,  who  were  condemned  by 
the  river-god  for  their  prudery  to  this  metamor- 
phosis. 

RHINE   RUINS. 

The  summit  of  almost  every  hill  on  both  sides  of 
the  river  has  its  crumbling,  ivy-grown  ruin,  some 
scarce  better  than  a  battered  wall,  others  still  show- 
ing the  outline  of  their  original  dimensions.  Any  of 
these  chiefless  castles  would,  if  alone,  make  a  most 
charming  picture,  and,  in  fact,  when  seen  for  the 
first  time,  are  most  striking,  but  these  beauties  are 
strewn  with  so  profuse  a  hand  that  the  marvel  wears 
off,  and  one  hardly  deigns  a  second  glance  at  what 
yesterday  ravished  him.  So  does  the  commonplace 
callous  our  sensibility.  These  castles,  for  the  most 
part,  belonged  to  feudal  lords,  and  were  often  held  in 
lief  by  the  neighboring  bishop;  many,  too,  were 
monasteries  and  religious  asylums.  Among  those 
commonly  pointed  out  is  one  derisively  called  the 
"Mouse,"  in  distinction  to  one  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river  called  the  "Cat."  The  possessors  of 
the  latter  were  the  counts  of  Katzenellenbogen,  /.  e., 
"Cat's  elbow,"  which  surname  was  given  them — 
according  to  Washington  Irving — as  a  compliment  to 
a  peerless  dame  with  beautiful  arms.  The  Rheinfels 
is  the  most  imposing  ruin  on  the  river.  Its  vicissi- 
tudes of  sieges,  victories,  surrenders,  date  from  1245 
until  it  was  blown  up  in  1812  and  sold  for  five 
hundred  dollars.  It  now  belongs  to  the  Emperor  of 
Germany. 


120  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 


BINGEN. 


It  was  not  without  some  anticipation  that  we 
looked  forward  to  Bingen.  Certainly  there  were 
many  places  along  the  river  of  more  historic  interest, 
and  not  a  few  that  surpass  it  in  natural  beauties, 
yet  what  neither  chronicle  nor  superficial  charms 
could  do  one  touch  of  Memory's  finger  did.  Who 
amongst  us  does  not  remember  the  touching  story 
of  the  soldier  "dying  in  Algiers,  where  the  yellow 
sunlight  shines  on  the  vine-clad  hills  of  Bingen,  fair 
Bingen  on  the  Rhine." 

In  the  evening,  in  the  clear  starlight,  we  wandered 
along  the  river  bank  or  stopped  now  and  then  to 
watch  some  boat  drop  quietly  down  the  stream.  The 
season,  the  place,  and  the  hour,  called  up  a  thousand 
reminiscences.  "Our  guide"  was  sentimental,  "our 
philosopher"  turned  moralist,  and  "ourselves"  par- 
took of  a  little  of  both.  With  the  thought  of  home 
rose  the  picture  which  this  hour  used  to  bring,  and 
brings  yet,  though  seen  dimly  from  afar. 

"It  is  the  hour  when  with  angels  children  speak, 
While  we,  all  unmindful,  our  worldly  pleasures  seek; 
Eyes  upturned,  the  babes  on  heaven  call, 
All  at  the  same  time  beseeching  heaven's  throne, 
Hands  joined,  feet  bare,  they  kneel  upon  the  stone, 
For  us  asking  pardon  from  the  Father  of  us  all." 

English  is  spoken  quite  commonly  hereabouts,  in 
fact,  it  seems  more  so  than  French,  and  not  badly 
spoken  either.  Next  morning  was  Sunday,  and  we 
had  no  difficulty  in  finding  a  church.  We  assisted 
at  an  early  Mass,  and  so  crowded  was  the  place 
scarce  a  seat  was  to  be  found.  The  church  was  a 
queer  old  structure,  and  the  walls  were  hung  with 
gaudy  banners.  The  women  were  separated  from 
the  men.  At  times  during  the  service  the  congrega- 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  121 

tion  sang,  then  recited  a  decade  of  the  Rosary,  then 
sang-  again.  At  the  moment  of  the  elevation  one  of 
the  congregation  read  aloud  a  solemn  act  of  conse- 
cration. We  all  agreed  that  a  more  devotional  public 
service  we  never  saw.  In  fact,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  find  a  more  thoroughly  Catholic  people  than  those 
all  along  the  Rhine.  On  the  boats  flags  were  flying 
and  guns  fired  at  intervals.  It  was  the  octave  of  the 
fete  of  St.  Roch,  patron  of  the  place,  and  to-day's 
celebration  was  in  honor  of  Lady  Roch. 

WIESBADEN. 

Wiesbaden  is  the  Saratoga  of  this  part  of  the  world. 
Beautiful  drives,  fine  buildings,  thermal  springs,  and  a 
handsome  Cursaal  and  park  are  its  chief  attractions. 
We  made  but  a  short  stay  here,  for  the  high  life  all 
around  us  was  too  chilly  an  atmosphere  for  us.  We 
did,  however,  go  to  the  concert  in  the  evening,  and  it 
was  a  surprise  and  delight  to  hear  the  sweet,  familiar 
strains  of  "My  Old  Kentucky  Home." 

MAYENCE. 

Mayence,  although  not  the  head  of  navigation,  is  the 
usual  stopping  place  for  sight-seekers.  There  are  few 
European  towns  that  have  so  long  and  varied  a  history 
as  Mayence,  but  this  we  must  pass  over.  We  came 
only  as  sight-seekers,  we  must  pass  only  as  such.  In 
most  American  cities  the  centre  of  public  life  and  at- 
traction is  usually  the  "city  hall,"  "post-office,"  or  the 
like;  in  European  cities  this  centre,  invariably,  is  the 
cathedral.  The  people  of  Mayence,  like  those  bodies 
that  approach  too  near  the  centre  of  gravity  and  fall 
into  it,  have  built  up  and  on  to  the  church  so  as  to 
leave  not  even  an  entrance  of  its  own.  It  is  a  curious 
old  pile,  inside  as  well  as  outside.  Its  most  interest- 


122  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

ing-  feature  consists  of  its  numerous  tombstones,  rang- 
ing1 from  the  thirteenth  to  the  nineteenth  century.  Near 
the  cathedral  is  a  statue  of  Gutenberg,  the  supposed 
inventor  of  printing.  His  first  attempts  were  made  in 
1440  and  1450,  and  the  first  book  printed  from  movable 
type  was  the  famous  forty-two  line  Bible.  From  the 
citadel  above  the  city  we  took  our  last,  long,  lingering 
look  at  the  Rhine. 

"Adieu  to  thee  again!  a  vain  adieu! 

There  can  be  no  farewell  to  scenes  like  thine. 
The  mind  is  colored  by  thy  very  blue, 

And  if  reluctantly  the  eyes  resign 
Their  cherished  gaze  upon  thee,  lovely  Rhine, 

'Tis  with  the  thankful  glance  of  parting  praise 
More  mighty  spots  may  rise, — more  glaring  shine, 

None  so  unite  in  one  attracting  maze. 

The  brilliant,  fair,  and  soft, — the  glories  of  old  days." 

—  Childe  Harold. 

HEIDELBERG. 

Heidelberg  has  twenty-five  thousand  inhabitants,  and 
is  particularly  noted  for  its  university  and  massive 
ruin  of  a  mighty  castle.  The  university  was  founded 
in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  you  would  think  so  to 
look  at  it.  It  has  about  seven  hundred  students  in 
winter  and  a  thousand  in  summer.  As  can  be  seen 
from  the  photograph  I  am  sending,  the  castle  is  an 
immense  affair,  and  is  considered  the  most  magnificent 
ruin  in  Germany.  It  dates  from  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, and  the  sieges,  the  stormings,  the  blowing  up, 
and  the  fire  and  lightning  of  six  hundred  years  have 
reduced  it  to  its  present  condition. 

BADEN    BADEN. 

There  is  a  quiet  gentility  about  this  place  that 
is  of  itself  restful.  The  town  is  not  large,  but 
counts  many  beautiful  buildings.  The  streets  are 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  123 

well  shaded  and  the  suburbs  offer  a  multitude  of  the 
most  charming"  walks.  Like  Interlaken  it  lies  between 
the  eternal  hills,  protected  alike  from  wind  and 
weather.  There  are  numerous  thermal  springs,  and 
many  of  the  public  fountains  spout  steaming  water. 
Twice  a  day  excellent  music  is  had  at  the  casino. 
When  operas  are  given  they  begin  at  6.30  P.  M.  and 
finish  at  9  p.  M.,  so  as  to  accommodate  the  Sanitarians, 
who  are  the  principal  visitors  of  the  place.  The  baths 
are  quite  a  feature  here,  and  the  accommodations  are 
on  a  grand  scale.  We  tried  a  Turkish  bath.  Some 
of  the  stages  of  the  bath,  like  that  of  the  hot  chamber 
with  the  forms  in  white  moving  noiselessly  about  or 
stretched  upon  a  roasting  bed,  and  the  hot,  dry  air, 
recalled  a  circle  in  the  Inferno.  In  the  apartment  of 
the  massage,  and  that  of  the  steaming,  it  was  not 
difficult  to  imagine  the  attendants,  as  they  rubbed 
and  turned  and  beat  their  helpless  victims,  the  min- 
isters of  vengeance  in  those  dark  realms. 

Mr.  B was  anxious  for  us  to  meet  the  Cure  of 

Baden,  but  he  was  on  vacation.  He  has  a  very  respon- 
sible position  and  seems  to  be  a  remarkable  man. 
Besides  being  very  amiable  and  an  excellent  politi- 
cian, he  speaks  six  languages,  Scotch,  German,  French, 
English,  Spanish,  Italian,  and  Russian.  The  children 
salute  the  priest  with  the  words,  "Praised  be  Jesus," 
to  which  he  answers,  "  Forever  and  ever." 

Baden  is,  for  the  most  part,  Catholic.  There  is, 
however,  one  church  devoted  to  the  use  of  the  Old 
Catholics  who  separated  from  the  church  of  Rome  at 
the  time  of  the  Vatican  Council. 

A  few  steps  from  our  hotel  was  a  little  burial  ground, 
and  in  it  a  small  chapel.  On  the  iron  grating 
that  separated  the  sanctuary  from  the  body  of  the 
church  were  hung  little  wax  legs  tied  with  bright 


124  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

ribbons.  My  first  thought  was  that  some  children 
playing-  hereabouts  had  brought  their  dolls  to  grief, 
and  in  expiation  had  suspended  here  the  mutilated 
members.  The  number  of  them,  however,  rendered 
such  an  explanation  hardly  probable.  I  was  after- 
wards told  that  such  a  sight  is  quite  common  and  has 
some  religious  significance.  Among  the  good  old  cus- 
toms that  are  still  preserved  here  is  that  of  carrying 
publicly  the  Viaticum  to  the  dying.  The  priest  carries 
the  Blessed  Sacrament  in  a  small  purse  hung  from 
his  neck,  and  as  he  passes  along  the  street,  gives  a 
blessing  with  It  to  the  kneeling  people. 

There  was  a  delightful  spot  among  the  hills,  a  short 
distance  from  town,  where  we  used  to  go  in  the  early 
morning  for  breakfast.  Beneath  the  trees  of  a  farm- 
house, with  Baden  below,  the  mountains  around  us, 
the  red  sun  toiling  up  the  heavens,  the  fresh  breath 
of  morning,  and  the  chirps  of  the  birds,  was  not  this 
a  feast  for  the  soul?  And  then  the  snowy  cloth,  the 
steaming  coffee,  the  brown  rolls,  a  little  honey,  and  a 
few  eggs,  and  after  this,  a  fragrant  cigar,  was  there 
ever  epicurean  who  had  a  better  meal  than  this?  Nor 
did  the  sordid  cares  of  expense  diminish  our  appe- 
tites. Two  and  one-half  marks,  fifty  cents,  paid  for 
the  breakfast  of  the  three. 

About  an  hour's  walk  from  Baden  a  deep  and  wooded 
ravine  winds  about  or  tumbles  along  a  little  mountain 
stream.  We  followed  its  windings,  up  and  in  among 
the  hills,  to  see,  as  it  was  musically  called,  Der  Was- 
serfall,  and  here  it  is.  So  charming  a  spot  I  never 
saw.  Were  I  an  artist,  I  would  make  that  journey 
over  again;  such  a  subject  would  be  an  inspiration. 
Never  did  sylvan  god  nor  streamlet  nymph  have  fairer 
nook  than  this.  The  hills  all  around  and  above  us  ; 
the  little  silver  brook  plunging  over  the  rocks  between 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  125 

mossy  banks,  now  in  the  shadow  and  now  in  the  sun- 
shine, now  running-  smoothly,  then  dashing-  along,  the 
water  comes  down  just  in  front  of  us,  where,  like  a 
frightened  doe,  it  makes  one  long-  leap  and  lies  pant- 
ing at  our  feet,  on  the  bright  sandy  bottom  of  a  min- 
ature  fountain.  A  few  rocks  projecting-  over  the 
stream  give  a  view  in  both  directions,  while  beneath, 
the  stream,  having  gathered  its  breath,  purls  on  again 
in  its  downward  course.  A  little  below  is  a  rustic 
bridge,  and  on  the  bank  a  bench  or  two.  Here  we 
sat  in  the  solemn  stillness  of  a  Sunday  afternoon 
drinking  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  and  —  oh,  prosaic 
thought  —  eating  ham  sandwiches. 

The  races  are  always  an  event  of  considerable  im- 
portance at  Baden,  so,  of  course,  we  must  not  miss 
them.  They  are  invariably  jocky  races,  and  to  one 
accustomed  to  baseball  matches  and  college  football 
bouts,  these  races  are  tame  affairs, —  "as  moonlight 
unto  sunlight,  as  water  unto  wine."  The  turnouts 
to  and  from  the  race  attract  great  attention.  The 
dashing  coach-and-four,  tandems,  landaus,  dog-carts, 
etc.,  the  crack  of  the  whip,  the  notes  of  a  horn,  the 
bright  colors  and  smiling  faces,  all  make  a  most  charm- 
ing panorama.  We  had  the  distinction  of  riding,  if 
not  in  the  best  turnout  on  the  road,  at  least  in  the 
worst.  Imagine  a  basket  hay  cart  with  a  pole  for 
two  horses  and  drawn  by  but  one, —  rather  a  half  a 
one, —  scarcely  more  than  a  bundle  of  bones;  ropes 
for  harness,  and  a  single  rein;  a  Jehu  in  keeping 
with  the  rest,  and  you  have  our  make-up.  How  we 
ever  kept  in  the  road  is  still  a  mystery.  There  was 
nothing  proud  about  us,  so  we  left  our  landau  on 
coming  into  town,  as  we  did  not  want  to  monopolize 
all  the  attention  of  the  expectant  populace.  Those  in 
the  nicer  turnouts  would  be  angry,  so  we  walked 
home  from  there. 


126  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

STRASBURG. 

The  epithet  "most  beautiful  city,"  that  Stras- 
burg  once  merited,  might  be  changed  a  little  to- 
day. "Most  dirty  city"  would  more  nearly  describe 
the  greater  part  of  the  town.  In  the  old  part  of  the 
city  are  some  quaint  old  buildings  with  high  pitched 
roofs  pierced  by  three  and  four  stories  of  dove-cot 
windows.  The  cathedral  is  built  of  a  kind  of  reddish 
or  brick  color  stone,  which  is  by  no  means  as  pleas- 
ing to  the  eye  as  the  dark  gray  stone  of  the  cathedral 
at  Cologne.  Then,  too,  the  single  tower  gives  it  al- 
most the  appearance  of  deformity.  It  is  a  gigantic 
affair,  and  a  church  that  has  few  superiors,  yet 
Cologne  is  certainly  one  of  them. 

A  monument  perhaps  more  noted  than  this,  and 
none  the  less  a  work  of  genius,  is  the  famous  Stras- 
burg  clock.  It  is  in  the  wing  on  the  inside  of  the 
cathedral  and  is  about  sixty  feet  high.  It  was  con- 
structed in  1838-42  by  Schwielgue.  It  is  made  of  the 
hardest  and  most  durable  metal,  and  has  not  been 
touched  since  put  up.  To  Catholics  it  is  a  matter  of 
honest  pride.  It  is  Catholic  in  its  conception,  Catholic 
in  its  emblems,  Catholic  in  its  characteristic  features, 
Catholic  in  its  execution.  It  has  immortalized  the 
name  of  its  maker. 

The  university  is  a  magnificent  affair.  There  are 
five  or  six  handsome  buildings,  all  perfectly  equipped 
with  the  latest  conveniences  and  improvements.  They 
date  since  the  war,  and  the  Germans  seem  to  have 
outdone  themselves  to  make  a  show.  The  cost,  thus 
far,  has  been  about  three  million  dollars.  Directly 
opposite  is  a  palace  of  the  king. 

The  church  (Protestant)  of  St.  Thomas  contains 
the  mausoleum  of  Marshal  Saxe.  After  examining 
and  admiring  this  splendid  monument,  and  meditat- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  127 

ing,  after  all  it  was  but  little  to  be  left  to  this  con- 
querer  of  three  nations,  the  woman,  the  guardian  of 
the  place,  led  us  into  an  adjoining-  apartment.  Here, 
after  showing  us  a  number  of  old  inscriptions,  rusty 
locks,  pieces  of  bomb-shells,  etc.,  she  began  rum- 
maging through  a  closet  and  brought  out  an  old-fash- 
ioned iron  box.  From  this  she  took  out  something- 
wrapped  in  dirty,  dusty  rags,  and  these,  when  un- 
wound, revealed  a  kind  of  brass  case  in  the  shape  of 
a  heart.  This  she  held  close  to  my  ear,  and  shook 
it  to  make  it  rattle.  What  was  it?  Why,  the  heart 
of  Marshal  Saxe.  This  heart,  "that  once  beat  high 
for  praise,"  formed  part  of  the  show  for  which  we 
had  paid  ten  cents  on  entering.  The  woman  was 
sorry  that  she  could  not  open  it  for  us  as  it  was 
sealed,  but  instead,  she  shook  it  well,  then  put  it  back 
into  the  closet. 

PARIS. 

Home  again.  The  quiet  and  tranquility  of  all  about 
here  formed  a  contrast  to  the  scenes  through  which 
we  had  passed,  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  stepped 
off  the  world  into  one  of  those  tranquil  planets  which 
hang  above  our  heads  in  the  calm  still  night. 

The  extracts  that  follow  have  been  taken  from  some 
of  the  letters  of  the  young  seminarian  written  at  va- 
rious times  during  his  second  year  in  Paris.  They 
give  a  better  insight  into  his  continued  happiness  and 
contentment  in  his  theological  studies  than  could  any- 
thing else. 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice, 

Sept.  9,  1889. 
My  dear  Father  : 

I  imagine  when  you  read  the  heading  of  this  letter 
you  will  draw  a  little  sigh  of  relief  to  know,  that 


128  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

after  two  months'  rambling  I  have  returned  safely, 
and  that  I  am  now  —  to  use  a  familiar  expression  — 
"where  folks  can  find  me."  After  an  extended  trip, 
it  seems  good  to  get  back  again, —  like  coming  home, 
for  there  is  always  a  little  colony  of  stranded  foreign- 
ers here  during  the  summer,  and  we  meet  with  a 
warm  reception.  *  * 

Oct.  2,  1889. 

A  thousand  thanks    for  all  the  presents  Mr.  Q 

brought.  It  is  difficult  to  say  which  pleased  me  most, 
the  stockings,  the  underwear,  the  base-balls,  the  cigars, 
etc.,  etc.  The  American  colony  have  smoked  them- 
selves black  in  the  face.  The  shoes  are  an  excellent 
fit,  and  the  finest  pair  I  ever  saw.  I  am  cutting  quite 
a  shine  with  them.  Many,  many  thanks  for  your 
kind  thoughtfulness.  The  seminary  is  to  open  on 

Thursday  of  this  week.     Mr  Q and  myself  have 

again  started  housekeeping,  and  have  already  had  a 
few  cups  of  tea  together  in  good  old-maid  fashion. 
We  have  a  double  room  overlooking  the  Place  of  St. 
Sulpice.  There  are  several  new  students  from 
America,  but  none  from  our  immediate  vicinity.  All 
the  rooms  are  taken,  and  some  candidates  had  to  be 
turned  away.  *  *  *  * 

Dec.  24,  1889. 
My  dear  Mother  : 

If  I  needed  a  reminder  that  it  is  Christmas  Eve, 
and  that  about  this  time  you  and  Father  and  the  dear 
ones  at  home  are  all  enjoying  the  sweet  memories 
that  Christmas-tide  always  brings,  I  certainly  got  it 
when,  a  few  moments  ago,  I  found  upon  my  desk 
the  pretty  gifts  that  your  kind  forethought  so  well 
timed.  They  are  beautiful  indeed,  and  for  them  my 
heartfelt  thanks.  They  have  been  much  admired,  lassure 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  129 

you,  the  more  so  as  such  mementos  of  the  season  are 
quite  unknown  here.  Today  I  received  also  "  The 

Eternal  Priesthood"  from  Mr.  Q ,  and  I  esteemed 

myself  most  fortunate  to  have  so  many  friends. 

Many  thanks  to  T for  her  first  Christmas  greet- 
ing's; they  were  indeed,  the  first  that  came  to  me- 
May  her  own  Christmas  be  holy  and  happy,  and  may 
my  Baby  share  the  blessing's  of  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem, 
and  you  all,  none  the  less. 

In  reg-ard  to  the  stole  which  K has  painted  for  me, 

I  think  it  is  better  not  to  send  it  over,  but  wait  until 
some  one  is  coming-  to  Paris,  and  in  this  way  you 
will  avoid  having  to  pay  duty  on  it.  I  have  no  doubt 
it  is  very  beautiful,  and  I  will  be  most  happy  to  please 
her  by  wearing1  it  at  my  ordination.  But  there  is 
plenty  of  time  to  think  of  that. 

On  Saturday  last  —  the  feast  of  St.  Thomas,  and 
Father's  birthday — I  received  Minor  Orders  from 
Cardinal  Richard.  It  would  be  rather  long-  to  explain 
the  dig-nity  and  duties  of  these  offices.  At  present 
they  are  usually  exercised  by  the  priest,  but  are 
necessary  for  the  reception  of  Holy  Orders,  and  have, 
of  course,  certain  graces  attached  to  them  as  a  prep- 
aration, which  I  hope  I  merited.  The  ordinations 
this  year  were  considerably  broken  in  upon  by  the 
"Influenza."  During  the  week  of  retreat  a  number, 
more  than  half  of  the  house,  became  sick.  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  escape  it  so  far,  and,  though  not 
out  of  the  woods  yet,  hope  to  weather  it.  The  influ- 
enza—  as  you  have  probably  seen  by  the  papers  —  is 
very  common  hereabout.  Several  of  the  schools  have 
taken  enforced  vacations  for  a  few  weeks.  We  may 
be  obliged  to  do  so ;  of  course  as  school-boys  we 
wouldn't  mind.  The  seminarians  living-  within  ten 
hours'  journey  from  here  have  been  permitted  to  go 


130  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

home  for  a  fortnight.  We  hope  that  there  may  be 
no  serious  consequences,  but  even  so,  the  amount  of 
misery  that  this  causes  in  a  city  like  Paris  is  awful. 
The  weather  seems  to  be  the  cause  of  it.  For  more 
than  a  week  the  sun  has  not  shone,  except  for  a  few 
minutes  this  afternoon.  It  is  not  very  cold,  but  damp 
and  chilly.  *  *  *  *  *~*  *  * 

Compliments  of  the  season  to  all  the  friends.  You 
all  have  my  prayers  on  this  Christmas  Eve,  for  a 
happy  holy  morrow,  and  many  returns  of  the  day. 
You  know  I  am  with  you  in  spirit  and  in  love,  dear 

Mother. 

Your  dutiful  son, 

JOHN. 

Jan.  14,  1890. 
My  dear  Mother  : 

Your  letter  and  invitation  to  come  home  reached  me 
last  night,  and  aside  from  the  solicitude  that  prompted 
it,  it  was  certainly  amusing.  To  relieve  your  minds 
I  cabled  this  morning,  and  assured  you  that  your 
alarm  was  wholly  without  foundation.  It  is  true  that 
we  have  been  given  a  fortnight's  vacation,  but  only 
because  of  a  general  indisposition,  which  was  not  at 
all  serious  and  only  interfered  with  the  exercises  of 
the  house.  For  myself,  thank  God,  I  was  not  sick 
an  hour,  and  so  the  break  in  the  exercises,  and  the 
vacation,  have  been  for  me,  as  the  children  say,  a 
picnic.  The  letter  I  wrote  at  Christmas  must  have 
reached  you  about  the  time  you  wrote  your  letter, 
and  I  hope  it  has  reassured  you  that  I  am  well.  On 
Saturday  last  I  received  a  cablegram  from  the  Express 
Company,  and  what  was  my  surprise  to  be  given 
five  hundred  francs  without  a  word.  It  never  came 
into  my  head  for  what  it  was  intended.  I  thought  of 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  131 

all  kinds  of  explanations  —  to  buy  something  special — 
a  sudden  inheritance,  etc.,  etc.  —  but  to  go  home, 
never.  Since  the  vacation  we  have  had  no  cases  at 
all,  and  when  your  letter  came  we  could  not  help 
laughing.  It  is  not  quite  so  convenient  as  you  imagine, 
dear  Mother  —  for  as  one  of  the  seminarians  reminded 
me  I  do  not  belong  to  myself  any  more.  But  there  is 
not  the  slightest  reason  for  leaving  here,  so  do  not 
worry  about  me,  nor  be  at  all  anxious  about  my 
health. 

Am  not  surprised  that  the  newspaper  reports 
frightened  you,  for  I  picked  up  a  Boston  paper  the 
other  day  and  saw  in  big  lines:  "One-Third  of  Paris 
Sick  !  "  This  is  but  a  trick  of  the  trade.  They  make 
mountains  out  of  mole-hills.  After  all  you  see  it  is 
I  who  am  anxious  now,  for  it  is  passed  over  here,  and 
you,  on  the  other  side,  have  got  to  undergo  it.  You 
mention  that  three  at  home  have  it.  They  must  be 
very  careful  of  a  relapse,  for  herein  lies  all  the  danger 
of  the  influenza.  The  precaution  is  to  stay  indoors, 
and  to  keep  warm,  for  a  week  or  two  after  the  malady 
has  passed.  Grown  folks  especially  are  the  more 
exposed,  and  have  it  the  more  severely.  Be  not 
deceived  because  it  seems  light  in  the  beginning,  so 
it  did  here,  but  as  I  have  said,  it  was  neglecting  it, 
and  the  relapse  that  caused  all  the  danger.  It  was 
the  poor  that  suffered  most  here,  through  want  of 
care,  but  the  mortality  was  no  larger  in  number  than 
with  the  rich.  There  were  many  amusing  episodes 
among  the  seminarians,  and  those,  like  myself,  that 
were  not  sick,  could  appreciate  them.  The  most  of 
the  Americans  had  it  very  lightly,  and  all  enjoyed 
the  vacation  immensely.  Besides,  I  am  five  hundred 
francs  in.  "It  is  indeed  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody 
good."  Don't  be  at  all  alarmed  about  me,  for  I  was 


132  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

never  better  in  my  life.  Write  soon  again,  Mother 
dear,  and  let  me  know  how  the  sick  ones  are.  Fondest 
love  to  you  and  to  all. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

JOHN. 

January  29,  1890. 
My  dear  Mother : 

I  have  just  received  the  several  letters  from  home, 
and  they  were  doubly  welcome,  for  I  was  anxious  to 
know  how  the  sick  ones  were,  and  to  hear  of  K 's  de- 
parture. Am  glad  all  came  through  La  Grippe  so  well. 
******  By  this  time  you  have  received  my 
letter  in  answer  to  the  cablegram,  and  I  hope  you  are 
perfectly  assured  of  the  good  state  of  affairs.  We 
began  studies  on  the  15th,  and  very  few  were  want- 
ing, so  you  see  we  were  well  over  the  siege  before  it 
reached  home.  It  lasted  here  more  or  less  for  two 
months,  so  I  doubt  if  you  have  seen  the  last  of  it. 
Do  not  neglect  the  precautions  of  a  relapse. 

Of  course  you  must  feel  very  lonesome  for  K , 

especially  as  she  was  so  much  at  home  during  the 
past  months.  But  after  all,  it  is  she  who  will  be  the 
more  lonesome,  and  besides,  the  complete  change  in 
life  may  be  difficult  to  undergo  at  first.  But  with 
the  help  of  God  it  will  soon  wear  away,  and  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  shortly  be  more  intimate  than  ever. 
She  will  be  near,  and  what  if  she  can't  run  in  to  return 
the  visit,  why  double  yours,  that's  all.  I  am  sure 
too,  that  after  you  have  visited  the  convent  a  few 
times,  and  seen  the  happy  life  the  nuns  lead,  you  will 
be  sorry  that  you  did  not  enter  yourself,  instead  of 
bringing  up  a  half  dozen  wild  geese  of  children 
that  take  wing  as  soon  as  they  are  able.  It  must 
have  been  Father's  fault.  Ask  him  what  kind  of  a 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  133 

nun  he  thinks  you  would  make  yourself.  I  have  met 
a  good  sister  here,  who  is  superior  of  a  convent  near 
by,  and  who  is,  she  told  me,  one  of  five  sisters,  all 
nuns,  whose  mother  ran  away  front  a  convent,  leaving 
by  the  window.  So  the  church  has  now,  instead  of 
one,  five  nuns,  which  was  not  so  bad  an  exchange. 
You  have  not  done  quite  so  well  as  that,  but  who 
knows  what  may  come  yet.  In  such  a  case  I  am  sure 
that  they  would  be  of  more  real  comfort  to  you,  and 
help  us  more  by  their  prayers  than  by  any  other 
thing  they  could  do. 

Am  afraid  that  myself  and  K have  taken  up  so 

much  of  your  consideration  and  affection  that  the 
others  at  home  will  be  jealous.  Do  not  fret  or  lose 
any  sleep  on  our  account,  dear  Mother,  and  be  assured 
that  K will  get  along  all  right. 

The  newspaper  slip  that  R sent  about  the  one 

thousand  students  of  St.  Sulpice  being  sick  caused 
a  great  laugh.  The  seminarians  accuse  me  of  having 
sent  that  news  to  get  the  money  that  was  cabled  to 
me.  I  have  been  presented  with  a  cake,  the  most 
successful  product  of  the  season. 

Love  to  each  one  at   home  and   to  yourself   in  par- 
ticular. 

Feb.  6,  1890. 

Your   letters   show    me   how    deeply    you    were    all 

affected  by  K 's  departure.     I  am  not  surprised  at 

it,  but  trust  that  by  this  time  the  sorrow  has  in  a  great 
measure  subsided.  I  don't  want  to  preach,  but  merely 
to  ask  you  to  look  at  it  reasonably  and  calmly.  Has 
she  not  done  the  best  thing?  What  else  could  she 
do,  than  what  she  felt  to  be  the  Will  of  God?  She 
might  refuse  His  call,  if  she  wished,  but  with  what 
risk  to  herself,  and  what  ingratitude  to  God  !  To  be 
sure  it  was  hard  to  part  with  her,  but  if  you  look  at 


134  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

it  from  a  spiritual  point  of  view — the  only  true  way — 
it  will  be  much  easier  to  be  reconciled  to  it.  Then, 
too,  she  has  not  gone  so  far,  nor  dropped  so  com- 
pletely out  of  your  lives  as  you  think,  for  I  am  sure, 
after  a  short  time,  she  will  be  more  actively  interested 
in  all  your  affairs,  than  had  she  remained  a  little 
while  longer,  and  afterwards  had  a  family  of  her  own 
to  look  to.  To  look  upon  her  going  away  as  almost 
upon  a  death  —  that,  that's  a  little  too  strong.  Even 
if  such  a  thought  should  come,  you  should  reject  it 
for  your  own  good  sense,  and  faith,  should  prevent 
you  from  taking  so  sombre  a  view  of  it. 

There  is  another  reason  for  bearing  her  going  away 
at  least  with  resignation;  it  is  for  her  sake.  For  if 
she  knew  that  she  was  the  cause  of  so  much  pain  to 
you  all,  she  would  suffer  more  from  that  than  from 
any  incommodities  she  herself  has  to  put  up  with. 

So  now,  from  all  these  considerations  look  upon  the 
matter  joyfully,  and  believe  me  you  will  all  shortly 

be  more  proud  of  K in  that  old  pumpkin  hood 

than  in  the  "loveliest"  Easter  bonnet.  *  *  *  *  * 

March  21,  1890. 

We  celebrated  St.  Patrick's  Day  as  well  as  we  could 
under  the  circumstances  and  rules  of  the  house.  We 
wore  shamrocks  and  got  out  for  a  couple  of  hours  to  go 
to  the  Irish  College,  which  of  course  kept  the  day 
with  all  solemnity.  There  was  no  procession,  and  no 
tall  hats.  I  fear  that  by  the  time  I  come  to  wear  my 
beaver  again  it  will  be  venerable  enough  to  make  its 
appearance  only  on  "the  day  we  celebrate." 

The  weather  is  anything  but  St.  Patrick's  Day 
weather,  for  spring  has  been  here  some  weeks,  and 
the  trees  are  already  in  bloom.  After  Easter,  which 
is  not  far  off,  we  begin  the  Grand  Conges,  full  holi- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  135 

days,  which  are  spent  at  Issy.  We  will  have  a  chance 
to  use  the  base-balls  and  bats.  Plans  are  already  in 
the  wind  for  vacation.  For  myself,  I  incline  towards 
Rome,  for  this  will  very  likely  be  the  last  vacation 
that  I  will  have.  I  know  a  great  many  students  in 
Rome,  and  this,  with  its  many  advantages  and  tradi- 
tions, naturally  would  make  a  visit  very  agreeable. 
The  great  drawback  to  this  plan  is  the  warm  weather. 
I  have  been  thinking  of  taking  the  last  part  of  the 
school  year  to  see  Rome  thoroughly  and  profitably. 
But  of  this  later.  *  *  *  * 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice, 

Holy  Thursday,  1890. 
My  dear  Sister : 

I  steal  a  few  moments  between  the  exercises  of  the 
day  to  answer  your  last  letter,  for  I  do  not  consider 
such  writing  out  of  the  spirit  of  this  holy  time. 

I  am  very  much  pleased  to  hear  that  every  day 
finds  you  more  and  more  happy  in  your  new  home, 
and  that  the  time  passes  so  quickly  and  agreeably 
with  you.  Your  hours — if  any  one's — are  "  the  golden 
links,  God's  token  reaching  heaven  one  by  one,"  and 
God  grant  that  the  chain  be  never  broken.  As  you 
say  your  postulate  will  soon  be  over,  perhaps  you 
could  manage  to  have  the  name  of  Mary  or  Marie 
somehow,  to  make  more  complete  your  adoption  into 
the  congregation  of  our  Blessed  Lady.  But  suit  your- 
self perfectly. 

You  will  find  the  recitation  of  the  Little  Office 
most  interesting.  In  relation  to  the  Epistles  and 
Gospels  if  you  have  time  and  liberty  you  ought  to 
read  Bossuet's  Elevations  on  the  Gospels,  which  were 
written  for  religious,  and  like  everything  he  touched, 
this  work  is  very  well  done.  With  regard  to  the 
novena  for  T ,  I  began  it  as  you  suggested  on  the 


136  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

31st.  I  recommended  it  to  the  prayers  of  the  com- 
munity, and  also  to  a  confrerie  of  the  Sacre  Coeur,  a 
band  of  devout  souls  that  are  connected  with  the 
church  of  the  Sacred  Heart  here,  which  church  is 
being1  built  by  a  national  vow,  and  where  perpetual 
adoration  is  held.  I  asked  them  to  employ  the  inter- 
cession of  Mother  Julia,  so  that  in  case  of  a  cure  it 
may  be  used  for  the  cause  of  her  beatification,  and 
I  promised  to  erect  a  tablet  to  her  if  the  prayers  were 
answered.  Certainly  a  more  favorable  time  could  not 
be  found  than  Holy  Week  in  which  to  appeal  to  the 
Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus.  May  we  have  been  found  as 
well  disposed  to  ask  as  He  is  to  give.  The  ceremonies 
of  these  days  are,  of  course,  on  a  much  more  mag- 
nificent scale  here  than  at  home.  There  is,  however, 
one  simple  ceremony  at  which  we  assisted  yesterday, 
which  is  most  touching-  and  impressive.  It  is  the 
veneration  of  the  Crown  of  Thorns,  a  piece  of  the 
True  Cross,  and  one  of  the  Nails,  which  are  the 
identical  ones  used  in  the  .crucifixion  of  our  Divine 
Lord.  The  Crown  of  Thorns  was  brought  to  Paris 
by  St.  Louis.  It  is  indeed  inspiring-  of  holy  thoughts 
to  look  upon  this  relic  and  to  know  it  was  this  that 
pressed  so  cruelly  upon  the  Head  of  our  Blessed 
Saviour,  and  that  this  very  Nail  pierced  His  tender 
Flesh.  There  is  a  peculiarity  about  the  Crown  that 
is  not  commonly  known,  yet  which  shows  more  suffer- 
ing than  is  usually  attributed  to  this  instrument  of 
the  Passion.  The  circle  of  the  Crown  is  larger  than 
the  circumference  of  the  head,  even  when  the  thorns 
are  in  it,  so  that  to  keep  it  in  place  thorn  branches 
were  crossed  over  the  top,  the  whole  forming  a  kind 
of  cap.  So  that  there  was  no  part  of  the  Sacred  Head 
that  did  not  bear  the  wounds  and  bruises  for  our 
sins,  especially  for  those  of  thought  known  only  to 


OF  BLSHOP  DELANY  137 

Him.     Just  think  of  it,  dear  K ,  just  think  of  it ! 

I  knew  you  would  like  a  little  souvenir  of  the  relics, 
so  I  touched  them  with  a  little  medal  of  the  Sacred 
Heart  from  Paray  le  Monial  which  I  enclose.  I  hope 
you  will  get  it.  Holy  Happy  Easter. 

Apr.  11,  1890. 

Our  full  holidays  have  begun,  and  the  "calls"  to 
receive  orders  have  been  given  out.  I  have  received 
mine,  and  have  not  been  disappointed  in  anything. 
Pray  for  me  continually  as  I  do  for  you  all. 

SUB-DEACONSHIP. 
'Tis  over,  'tis  done,  the  die  is  cast, 
And  I,  O  Jesus,  am  Thine  at  last  ! 
At  last,  O  God,  at  Thy  feet  I  lay 

The  anguish,  the  doubts,  and  the  harrowing  fears  ; 
And  the  joy  and  the  peace  that  is  mine  to-day 

Is  worth  a  thousand  of  such  years. 

How  often,  my  God,  Thou  hast  been  mine, 

But  now,  only  now,  my  God,  I  am  Thine. 

Why  should  I  merit  Thy  holy  choice  ? 

Why  so  long  deaf  to  Thy  blessed  call  ? 
At  last,  O  Jesus,  I  come  to  Thy  voice, 

And  from  earth  and  sin  rise  as  a  pall. 
I  awake,  I  awake  at  Thy  finger's  touch. 
Enough  !  O  my  God,  of  joy  too  much ! 

Sassetot  le  Manconduit, 
Seine,    Inf., 

July  17,  1890. 

We  have  been  here  a  few  weeks,  and  most  of  the 
time  have  had  unpleasant  weather.  Sassetot  needs 
hardly  any  introduction,  as  the  little  description  I  gave 
of  it  last  year  will  serve  this  year,  yes,  and  for  years 
to  come.  It  is 

A  place  for  idle  eyes  and  ears 

A  cob-webbed  nook  of  dreams 
Left  by  the  stream  whose  waves  are  years 
The  stranded  village  seems. 


138  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

In  numbers  "we  are  seven",  but  expect  a  large  contin- 
gent about  August.  In  fact  we  are  getting  so  numerous 
that  for  a  little  quiet  and  more  freedom  to  study,  Mr. 

H and  I  will  leave  here  for  another  small  sea-side 

town  a  few  miles  further  on. 

Already  it  seems  good  to  get  out  of  the  heat  and  noise 
and  bustle  of  the  city,  and  to  breathe  the  fresh  sea  air 
and  hear  the  birds  sing.  A  walk  through  the  country 
is  a  veritable  treat.  The  crosses  on  the  highways,  the 
snugly  thatched  cottages,  the  little  churches  "old,  cent- 
uries old, "with  their  quaint  statues  that  would  make 
you  laugh,  and  these  decked  out  in  the  most  rustic  fash- 
ion, then  great  high  cliffs  overlooking  the  ocean  and 
between  them  broad,  fertile  valleys,  these  and  the  like 
surround  me,  and  would  not  anyone  enjoy  them? 

The  people  too,  are  very  sociable,  and  very  good 
Christians.  How  often  I  have  wished  that  some  of  you 
could  see  and  appreciate  what  Catholicity  can  do,  and 
has  done  for  a  country.  At  home  our  religion  is  looked 
upon  as  something  good  enough  for  the  poor  with  no 
past  and  little  present.  But  on  this  side  of  the  water,  all 
that  is  glorious  in  the  past,  all  that  is  noblest  in  the  pre- 
sent, in  the  arts,  the  sciences  and  morals  belong  to  the 
Church.  If  some  of  our  bigoted  New  England  brethren 
could  just  pass  over  Europe,  with  their  eyes  open,  they 
would  go  home  wiser  and  better  men,  and  they  would 
leave  their  prejudices  behind  them.  ****** 

St.  Pierre  en  Port, 

Seine  Inf. 
Hotel  de  la  Plage, 

July  24,  1890. 
My  dear  Mother : 

As  I  mentioned  in  a  previous  letter,  I  have  made  a 
change  from  Sassetot,  and  am  now  at  the  above  ad- 
dress, but  you  had  better  continue  to  send  your  letters 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  139 

to  the  seminary,  as  it  is  more  sure.  We  are  now 
very  comfortably  installed.  Our  rooms  overlook  the 
sea,  so  we  have  the  sea-air  zi  volont^  as  they  say. 

The  town  consists  of  a  few  dozen  fishermen's  cot- 
tages snugly  thatched,  and  an  antique  church.  There 
is  hardly  a  store  in  the  place,  and  no  post-office.  The 
nearest  railroad  is  ten  miles  away,  so  you  see  we  are 
well  out  of  the  noise  and  bustle.  The  beach  is  small 
and  stony,  but  the  country  hereabouts  is  charming-. 
It  would  amuse  you  to  see  the  services  at  the  church 
on  Sunday.  The  singers  —  old  fishermen,  bakers, 
etc.,  wear  a  soutane  and  a  surplice,  and  are  within 
the  sanctuary.  They  are  accompanied  by  a  large 
trombone,  and  all  these  singing  at  plain  chant,  if  they 
don't  make  a  noise,  it  is  not  because  they  don't  try. 
Some  of  them,  too,  wear  copes  like  the  priest's  at 
benediction,  and  as  you  may  imagine  they  cut  a  com- 
ical figure.  In  some  of  the  churches  the  women  are 
separated  from  the  men.  The  children  sing  every- 
thing "what  they  know  and  what  they  don't  know." 
They  chime  in  with  the  priest  in  singing  the  preface  ; 
sometimes  he  stops  suddenly  to  catch  them,  and  there 
they  are  all  singing  away. 

The  church  bell  is  rung  here  for  baptisms  and 
marriages,  and  it  is  tolled  when  a  soul  is  passing 
away.  The  other  day  we  asked  a  person  why  the 
bell  was  ringing,  and  he  replied,  "  They  are  bringing 
the  good  God  to  a  sick  person."  These  good  simple 
people  always  speak  thus  familiarly  and  affectionately 
of  God,  and  at  all  times  call  Him,  le  bon  Dieu. 


140  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

TO  MY  MOTHER. 

St.  Pierre  en  Port,  Aug.  9,  1890. 
Today  is  my  birthday,  and  since  early  morn 

My  thoughts  and  my  heart  have  gone  over  the  sea 
To  the  loved  spot  on  earth  where  I  first  saw  the  dawn, 
To  whisper,  dear  Mother,  my  greeting  to  thee. 

I  know  that  since  morning  thou'st  thought  of  thy  boy, 
And  mingled  his  name  in  thy   fervent  prayer  ; 

And  asked  God  to  keep  him,  thy  hope  and  thy  joy, 
And  bring  him  safe  home  to  those  waiting  him  there. 

Then  oft  through  the  day  I  thought  I  could  hear 
My  name  whispered  softly,  in  accents  so  sweet 

That  distance  and  time  but  render  more  dear, 
And  make  my  heart-pulses  now  quicken  their  beat. 


Three  years  have  gone  and  must  another 
E'er  I  may  fold  thee  to  my  breast; 

Yet,  courage,  God  is  good,  and  Mother, 
He  will  direct  all  for  the  best. 

And  am  I  changed  ?    Ah,  short  have  been 
These  years,  yet  they  have  left  their  trace; 

But  to  a  mother's  heart  there  is  that  within 
Which  time  or  clime  cannot  efface. 

How  go  these  fleeting  years  with  thee? 

Could  winter  coming  bring  no  snow? 
What  matter,  mother,  since   such  must  be, 

When  beneath  all  these  the  heart-fires  glow. 

Yet  while  the  years  of  life  go  past, 
We  can  but  wait  and  trust,  and  pray 

That  what  for  us  is  here  the  last 
May  mark  the  birth  of  eternal  day. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  141 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice, 

Oct.  2,  1890. 
My  dear  Sister: 

You  see  by  the  heading-  of  my  letter  that  I  am 
home  ag-ain,  after  all  my  wandering's,  and,  thank  God, 
I  am  safe  and  sound  and  none  the  worse  of  the  wear. 
My  last  letter  written  from  Venice  gave  you  an  idea 
of  my  j ourney ing's ;  between  this  word  and  the  previous 
one  have  come  Rome  and  Naples  and  the  most  interest- 
ing- parts  of  the  trip.  I  cannot  give  you  any  suitable 
account  in  this  letter,  for  my  time  is  limited  and 
the  mail  is  almost  due. 

You  will,  I  fear,  be  a  little  disappointed  that  I  did 
not  g-et  to  Lourdes  this  year;  yet  I  think  that  you 
will  agree  that  my  reason  is  g-ood  for  postponing-  a 
visit  there.  It  is  this:  Lourdes  is  almost  as  far  off 
the  road  to  Rome  as  it  is  from  Paris,  and  it  is  more 
easily  reached  from  here.  Then  it  is  the  custom  to 
g-o  and  say  Mass  there  after  ordination,  a  happiness 
and  privileg-e  I  could  not  hope  to  have  if  I  had  g-one 
there  this  summer.  So,  my  visit  is  postponed,  but 
by  no  means  abandoned.  If  you  have  any  particular 
need  of  the  water  of  Lourdes  I  can  send  for  some  as 
I  did  last  year.  Otherwise,  I  will  bring-  some  home 
with  me. 

What  can  I  tell  you  about  my  trip,  or  where  beg-in  ? 
Perhaps  I  had  better  commence  with  the  Passion 
Play.  You  have  read  of  its  origin,  and  how  it  is 
carried  out.  I  found  it  very  edifying-  and  instructive. 
There  is  a  decided  religious  sentiment  pervading-  the 
place  and  the  people  as  well  as  the  play.  A  striking- 
feature  of  the  play  is  that  the  scenes  in  Our  Lord's 
life  are  preceded  by  tableaux  from  the  Old  Testament 
by  which  these  events  were  prefigured  as  :  the  insti- 
tution of  the  Blessed  Sacrament  by  the  falling-  of 


142  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

Manna,  the  Crucifixion,  by  the  sacrifice  of  Abraham, 
etc.  For  people  who  have  not  studied  Holy  Scripture 
the  play  must  have  been  a  revelation.  The  part  that 
I  found  most  touching-  was  the  parting1  at  Bethany  of 
Our  Saviour  and  His  Blessed  Mother,  when  He  went 
up  to  Jerusalem  to  suffer  and  to  die.  It  caused  many 
an  eye  to  moisten  and  grow  dim  with  tears.  Although 
not  recorded  in  the  Bible  it  must  have  been  one  of 
the  countless  and  unknown  sufferings  in  the  hidden 
life  of  our  Divine  Lord.  The  Crucifixion  was  very 
realistic,  and  when  the  soldier  opened  Christ's  side 
with  a  lance  and  the  blood  spurted  out  there  was  a 
general  cry  of  horror.  The  performance  lasted  eight 
hours.  The  man  who  takes  the  part  of  Christ  is  a 
devout  soul,  and  makes  his  living  by  carving  crucifixes. 
From  Oberammergau  I  hurried  on  to  Rome,  stopping 
a  few  days  at  Venice  and  at  Florence.  It  is  not  pos- 
sible to  say  what  I  found  most  interesting  in  Rome, 
for  classical  antiquities,  Christian  memorials,  monu- 
ments of  art  and  shrines  of  devotion,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  crowd  more  into  so  small  a  space.  St. 
Peter's  surpassed  my  expectations,  and  the  Colosseum, 
the  monument  of  so  many  martyrs,  and  the  catacombs, 
their  resting  place,  leave  so  deep  an  impression  that 

one 

"  cannot  express 

Nor  cannot   all  conceal." 

I  saw  the  tombs  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  St. 
Ignatius,  St.  Aloysius,  St.  Agnes,  the  prison  where 
St.  Peter  baptized  his  jailor,  and  I  went  up  on  my 
knees  the  sacred  stairs  brought  from  the  house  of 
Pilate.  But  I  failed  to  see  the  Pope,  and  in  a  most 
exasperating  way.  With  considerable  trouble  and 
ceremony  I  had  been  granted  permission  to  assist  at 
the  Pope's  mass,  but  I  was  not  at  my  hotel  when 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  143 

the  letter  came.  The  bearer  of  the  letter  refused 
to  leave  it,  and  the  following  morning  it  was  too 
late.  The  only  consolation  I  got  was  that  the  Holy 
Father  blessed  a  number  of  rosary  beads  and  other 
articles  for  me. 

At  Naples  we  saw  the  miracle  of  the  liquefaction 
of  the  blood  of  St.  Januarius.  I  shall  send  you  a  full 
account  of  this  later  on. 

You  have  read  "The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii."  We 
saw  the  city  as  it  was  on  its  last  day.  It  is  a  won- 
derful sight;  its  silent  streets  and  rows  of  unroofed 
houses,  its  stores  and  dwellings,  theatres  and  tem- 
ples standing  almost  as  they  were  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago.  Hardly  one  half  of  the  city  has  been 
excavated. 

Vesuvius,  ever  active,  is  but  a  few  hours'  walk 
from  here.  By  day  there  is  a  cloud  of  steam  con- 
tinually rising  from  its  crater,  and  at  night  a  dark 
red  fire.  When  we  were  there  some  dozen  streams 
of  lava,  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  from  the  top, 
formed  a  gigantic  red  hot  gridiron.  I  never  saw 
such  a  manifestation  of  the  sublime  and  terrible  in 
nature. 

********** 

Continue  to  remember  me  in  your  prayers,  and 
be  assured  that  I  do  not  forget  you  in  mine. 

St.  Sulpice,  Oct.  27,  1890. 

I  would  like  to  write  a  full  account  of  the  summer 
as  I  have  done  in  other  years,  but  this  will  be  impos- 
sible, for  my  work,  including  the  recitation  of  the 
office,  is  just  double  what  it  was  up  to  this  time.  * 

******  We  had  a  little  visit  the  other 
day  with  Archbishop  Corrigan,  who  is  on  his  way  to 
Rome  and  the  Holy  Land.  ****** 


144  LIFE  AND    WRITINGS 

Nov.  22,  1890. 
My  dear  Mother: 

I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  the  Bishop,  and  he 
wishes  me  to  be  ordained  as  soon  as  possible.  He 
has  not  mentioned  the  exact  date,  but  most  likely 
it  will  be  in  the  early  summer.  That  will  be  rush- 
ing- matters,  as  you  see,  and  I  have  a  good  deal  of 
sanctity  to  acquire  in  so  short  a  time.  I  depend  on 
your  prayers,  dear  Mother,  and  those  of  all  my  friends, 
and  on  the  supreme  goodness  of  God  to  be  in  some 
measure  prepared.  In  the  meantime — at  Christmas 
—  I  will  be  ordained  deacon,  and  I  beg  you  to  pray 
for  me  especially  until  then.  ******* 

Seminaire  St.  Sulpice, 

Dec.    16,    1890. 
My   dear  Father : 

Our  wishes,  like  our  prayers,  are  independent  of 
time  and  space,  and  I  hope  these  will  reach  you  in 
time  to  tell  you  my  heartfelt  ones  of  Merry  Christ- 
mas to  all.  ******  T^  children  have 
outgrown  the  thoughts  of  Santa  Claus,  but  the  holy 
season  brings  to  us  all  a  quiet  joy  and  holy  peace 
unlike  perhaps  any  other  of  this  world.  Over  here 
ours  is  of  another  kind ;  not  the  family  reunion,  the 
festal  board  and  music ;  Christmas  always  brings  to 
us  an  ordination,  if  not  to  ourselves,  to  some  near 
friend.  It  is  the  season  of  first  Masses,  and  for  many 
of  returning  home.  I  am  in  retreat  preparing  for 
deaconship  on  Saturday.  My  next  retreat,  with  the 
help  of  God,  will  be  for  the  priesthood.  Pray  for  me 
always,  but  in  a  special  way  during  the  coming  months. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  145 

St.  Sulpice, 

Jan.  3,  1891 
My  dear  Sister  : 

The  whole  budget  of  Christmas  letters  arrived  safely 
and  in  good  time,  and  I  was  more  than  delighted  to 
hear  from  you  all,  individually  and  collectively.  I 
sincerely  hope  the  holy  season  was  as  happy  for  you 
as  I  wished  it  to  be.  ******  Was  glad  to 

see  that    my   "old  friends,"  G and  T ,    have 

not  gone  back  on  me  completely.  Their  little  letters 
were  much  appreciated.  Tell  them  not  to  be  too 
frightened  at  the  Cincinnati  examinations.  Little  girls 
in  Cincinnati  are  no  brighter  than  those  in  Lowell, 
perhaps  not  quite  so  bright.  I  am  afraid  I  won't  know 
"my  Baby"  when  I  get  home.  A  baby  that  sings 
duets,  studies  Latin,  and  speaks  French  is  hard  to 
conceive.  If  she  is  a  good  Baby  it  is  all  we  ask.  *  *  *  * 

The  holidays  passed  most  pleasantly  and  memorably 
for  me.  I  received  deaconship  during  them,  and  have 
now  to  wait  and  prepare  for  the  holy  priesthood.  *  * 
*  *  We  were  not  forgotten  by  our  new  friends  on 
this  side  of  the  water.  A  French  lady,  whom  we  met 
during  the  summer  sent  us  a  plum  pudding.  Another 
sent  us  a  cake,  and  we  received  beautiful  Christmas 
cards  all  the  way  from  St.  Petersburg.  *  *  * 

On  the  day  of  our  Sortie  we  had  a  dinner  together 

and  some  music.     Afterwards   Mr.  H and  I  made 

some  New  Year  calls.  I  must  say  I  enjoyed  them 
very  much,  and  realized  for  the  first  time  how 
charming  and  entertaining  French  people  are  at  home. 
Tea  and  bon-bons  were  the  great  treat.  They  certainly 
do  things  in  a  most  agreeable  and  cosy  way. 

So  much  for  my  New  Year,  the  last  over  here.  As  I 
finished  the  day  I  could  not  but  terminate  it  as  Father 
always  does  :  "God  grant  that  we  will  all  be  alive  and 
in  good  health  this  day  twelve  month."  To  which  you 
will  all  say  a  hearty  "Amen." 

Love  to  all  at  home. 

Your  fond  brother, 

JOHN. 


146  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


PRIESTLY  LIFE. 


The  day  long-desired  came  on  May  23.  1891,  when 
the  young-  seminarian  was  ordained  to  the  sacred 
priesthood  by  Cardinal  Richard,  Archbishop  of  Paris. 
In  this  final  step  all  his  hopes  were  realized,  all  his 
heart's  dearest  wishes  fulfilled.  When  the  solemn 
ceremony  was  over,  while  yet  his  consecrated  hands 
were  moist  with  the  holy  chrism,  he  cabled  the  fol- 
lowing words  across  the  sea,  "Just  ordained.  God 
bless  Father,  Mother,  and  all  at  home." 

Father  Delany  said  his  first  Mass  at  St.  Sulpice. 
He  then  offered  the  Holy  Sacrifice  at  some  of  the 
famous  shrines  in  and  about  Paris,  and  at  Lourdes, 
where  he  journeyed  especially  to  ask  the  blessing  of 
the  Mother  of  God  on  his  new  life  and  work.  He 
visited  England  and  Ireland,  and  finally  returned 
to  America.  After  passing  a  few  days  at  his  father's 
home  in  Lowell  he  reported  for  duty  to  his  superior, 
Bishop  Bradley. 

Surprise  has  often  been  expressed  that  Father 
Delany  should  have  left  the  old  and  well-established 
archdiocese  of  Boston  to  go  to  a  diocese  so  young  and 
and  apparently  so  unattractive.  New  Hampshire 
was  then  in  urgent  need  of  priests,  particularly  of 
priests  familiar  with  the  French  language,  and  Bishop 
Bradley  was  making  every  effort  to  secure  such.  It 
was  this  need  that  induced  Father  Delany  to  offer 
himself.  The  choice  was  not  altogether  approved  by  his 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  147 

friends.  One  of  these  ventured  to  say,  "If  you  are 
determined  to  leave  your  own  diocese,  why  don't  you 
go  to  New  York,  where  curates'  salaries  are  higher 
and  chances  for  advancement  better?" 

"I  am  not  to  be  a  priest  for  what  I  can  get  out  of  it," 
replied  Father  Delany,  "but  for  what  I  can  put  into 
it.  I  go  to  New  Hampshire." 

In  St  Anne's,  first  pillar  of  the  Church  in  Man- 
chester, Father  Delany  began  his  priestly  life.  Charity, 
good  nature,  unerring  devotion  to  duty,  made  him  a 
model  curate.  Many  of  his  assigned  tasks  were  among 
the  young  people,  to  whom  he  became  especially  dear, 
but  his  love  for  the  aged,  the  poor,  the  infirm, 
led  him  all  unbidden  to  seek  these  out  and  to  give 
them  consolation  not  only  spiritual  but  temporal.  He 
did  effective  work  for  the  young  women  of  the  parish 
through  the  medium  of  the  Guard  of  Honor,  which, 
under  his  guidance,  became  a  flourishing  society. 

Though  he  was  nominally  only  second  assistant  to 
the  pastor,  the  illness  of  Father  Quirk  made  him 
practically  the  first,  and  he  was  thus  brought  into 
close  association  with  Father  Lyons,  whose  efforts  for 
pariah  upliftment  he  ably  seconded.  Both  men  were 
devoted  to  Father  Quirk,  and  tried  in  every  way  possi- 
ble to  lighten  his  labors.  This  was  not  easy  to  do, 
for  though  the  illness  proved  to  be  his  last,  he  refused 
then  to  regard  it  seriously.  It  was  noticed,  however, 
when  his  turn  came  for  answering  sick  calls,  that  he 
never  got  any  at  night.  This,  in  a  large  parish,  was 
so  unusual  as  to  occasion  remark,  but  it  was  looked 
upon  as  a  coincidence  until  someone  discovered  that 
every  night  after  the  household  had  retired,  Father 
Delany  slipped  quietly  down,  switched  the  sick-call  bell 
to  his  own  room,  and  as  quietly  switched  it  back  early 
in  the  morning,  having  attended  meanwhile  to  what- 


148  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

over  summons  had  come.  For  two  years  and  a  half 
Father  Delany  remained  at  St.  Anne's.  He  was  then 
transferred  to  Portsmouth  as  curate  to  the  present 
Vicar  General  of  the  Manchester  diocese. 

Here  in  a  smaller  parish  Father  Delany  had  abun- 
dant hours  of  leisure,  which  he  improved  by  reading 
and  studying-.  Yet  for  these  congenial  occupations 
he  neglected  no  parish  duties.  On  the  contrary,  dur- 
ing the  five  years  that  he  spent  here,  the  young 
priest  by  his  wisdom,  his  piety,  and  his  zeal  won  for 
himself  undying  affection  in  the  hearts  of  the  people 
of  Portsmouth. 

Recalling  those  days  one  of  the  early  parishioners 
says :  "  Father  Delany's  charity  was  as  boundless 
as  the  ocean  while  he  labored  amongst  us.  Day  and 
night  it  was  exemplified  in  a  thousand  ways.  He 
made  it  a  special  practice  to  go  to  the  hospital  on 
stormy  days,  when  he  knew  the  sick  and  suffering 
confined  there  would  be  alone.  To  the  afflicted  he 
brought  presents  of  various  kinds,  and  above  all  the 
sweetest  of  comforts  in  his  genial  presence  and  cheer- 
ing words.  In  the  sick  room  he  was  gentleness  itself 
and  many  stricken  ones  looked  for  him  as  eagerly 
as  if  he  were  a  visitant  from  Heaven  that  would  bring 
them  the  succor  and  aid  they  longed  for  and  desired. 
One  old  lady  in  particular,  alone  in  the  world,  was 
a  special  charge  of  his,  and  this  guardianship  con- 
tinued until  her  death.  On  one  occasion  he  journeyed 
to  a  distant  city  to  bring  a  little  child  to  Ports- 
mouth to  visit  his  invalid  mother.  Again,  at  his  own 
expense,  he  sent  children  to  Boston,  to  noted  spe- 
cialists, for  treatment  that  could  not  be  received  at 
home. 

He  was  ever  zealous  for  the  souls  of  sinners,  and 
his  voice  from  the  pulpit  stirred  many  a  sinner  to 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  149 

repentance,  while  his  personal  kindly  interest  in  many 
a  hardened  heart  softened  its  feelings  and  led  it  back 
to  God.  Once  while  a  mission  was  being1  conducted 
by  the  Jesuits,  a  friend  asked  Father  Delany  how  he 
was  enjoying  his  rest.  He  replied,  "Oh,  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  with  myself."  Later  it  was  known  that 
he  had  been  out  day  after  day  hunting  up  the  most 
hardened  sinners,  and  that  he  had  the  happiness  of 
seeing  some  of  them  well  started  on  the  road  to  a 
better  life.  A  little  incident  occurred  while  he  was 
attending  a  man  who  was  seriously  ill  which  will 
illustrate  his  sense  of  duty.  The  man  had  a  strong 
affection  for  Father  Delany,  and  on  this  occasion 
when  the  good  priest  was  remonstrating  with  him 
about  his  sinful  manner  of  living,  the  man  said,  "Well, 
Father,  I  will  go  to  confession  for  your  sake."  Quick- 
ly came  the  reply,  "If  you  cannot  go  for  God's  sake 
and  for  your  soul's  sake,  stay  as  you  are."  Once 
when  he  was  asked  why  he  attended  every  fire  he 
answered,  "At  such  a  time  a  priest  may  be  needed, 
and  if  so  I  wish  to  be  there."  The  children  of  the 
parish  welcomed  him  with  joy  at  their  various  amuse- 
ments, for  his  coming  in  their  midst  was  always  a 
promise  of  a  new  foot-ball  for  the  boys,  and  some 
sweets  for  the  girls. 

With  the  non-Catholics  he  was  ever  courteous  and 
dignified,  yet  most  approachable,  and  for  this  reason 
he  made  many  friends  among  those  who  were  not 
of  the  faith.  One  of  them  remarked:  "Father  Delany 
was  the  kindest  and  most  charitable  man  I  ever  met." 
It  was  not  by  his  actions  alone  that  his  goodness 
was  revealed,  it  was  his  delicate  thoughtfulness,  and 
constant  consideration,  which  many  another  would  not 
have,  that  made  his  charities  unique." 


150  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

The  following  extracts  are  taken  from  sermons  and 
letters  written  by  Father  Delany  during-  his  labors 
in  Portsmouth. 

AN  UNPREPARED  DEATH. 

"There  is  perhaps  no  lesson  in  Holy  Scripture  so 
often  taught,  so  variously  represented,  so  strongly 
inculcated  as  uncertainty  of  life  and  the  certainty  of 
death.  *  *  *  No  man  pretends  that  he  will  live 
forever,  no  man  will  insist  that  he  will  live  for  a 
given  term  of  years.  Everyone  will  acknowledge 
that  he  knows  not  the  day  nor  the  hour  when  the 
angel  of  death  may  summon  him. 

******* 
If  death  were  all,  and  the  end  of  us,  we  could 
afford  to  put  aside  considerations  of  it,  and  enjoy 
ourselves  while  we  may.  But  it  is  not  all.  It  is  not 
the  end.  It  is  only  the  beginning  of  another  existence 
far  more  important  to  us  than  the  one  we  leave.  That 
other  will  be,  not  a  life  of  a  few  years,  or  of  a  few  score 
years,  but  a  life  without  end  of  ecstatic  bliss  or  one  of 
indescribable  misery.  As  our  lot  depends  upon  our  con- 
dition when  God  shall  call,  for,  "where  the  tree  falls, 
there  it  will  lie,"  it  behooves  us  to  provide  for  the  same. 

******* 

To  be  taken  unawares  by  death  in  sin  is  an  unpar- 
donable blindness,  because  we  are  warned  every  moment 
of  its  approach.  *  *  *  * 

To  be  found  unprepared  is  an  inexcusable  madness 
because  of  the  dreadful  evils  it  entails.  By  an  unpro- 
vided death  I  do  not  mean  those  awful  judgments  of 
God  by  which  the  sinful  are  often  cut  off  in  their  sins 
for  a  public  example,  even  as  Baltazar  in  the  midst 
of  his  debaucheries,  or  as  Herod  in  his  profanation. 
These  are  thunderbolts  laid  up  in  the  store-house  of 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  151 

God's  wrath  for  rare  and  terrible  lessons,  and  yet  His 
justice  and  His  judgment  daily  surprise  unprepared 
and  unthinking  Christians.  ***** 

Do  Catholics  die  unprepared?  We  know  that  Cath- 
olics sin,  sometimes  live  in  sin.  They  are  not  exempt 
from  sin  any  more  than  others,  and  unless  it  is  through 
a  miracle  of  God's  goodness  they,  too,  die  in  sin.  *  * 

A  few  years  ago,  in  a  well-known  city  a  woman  was 
dying.  She  had  received  all  the  sacraments  with 
apparent  fervor.  The  morning  after  their  reception 
a  messenger  came  to  recommend  her  to  the  prayers 
of  the  priest  saying  that  she  was  then  in  her  agony 
and  her  death  was  momentarily  expected.  As  she  had 
been  prepared  for  the  end,  and  had  not  again  asked 
for  the  priest  he  did  not  call.  In  the  afternoon  he 
was  occupied  in  the  confessional.  Towards  evening 
there  was  a  break  in  the  confessions,  so  the  priest 
thought  he  would  slip  in  and  see  if  the  poor  woman 
were  yet  living.  She  was  still  alive,  but  hardly  more; 
the  death  rattle  was  in  her  throat,  and  every  breath 
seemed  to  be  her  last.  In  this  condition  she  had  been 
since  morning.  With  the  little  strength  she  had  left 
she  waved  the  people  out  of  the  room,  and  beckoned 
the  priest  to  come  to  her.  He  knelt  beside  her  and 
she  gasped  "Oh,  Father,  I  could  not  die  till  you  came. 
I  made  a  sacrilegious  confession,  and  received  Hoi}' 
Viaticum  in  mortal  sin."  The  priest  had  just  time 
to  excite  her  to  sorrow  for  her  sin  and  confidence  in 
God,  to  give  her  absolution  anew,  and  in  five  minutes 
she  was  dead. 

This  story  is  no  hearsay,  for  I  myself  was  the  priest. 
This  poor  soul  went  to  the  very  gates  of  death  un- 
prepared; but  I  knew  another  to  have  apparently 
passed  through. 

I  was  once  called  to  a  young  man  born  of  Catholic 
parents,  baptized  and  brought  up  as  a  Catholic,  but 


152  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

by  bad  reading  and  evil  company  he  had  completely 
lost  his  faith.  He  believed  in  neither  God  nor  here- 
after. As  he  was  in  the  last  stages  of  consumption, 
I  visited  him  often.  He  always  received  me  politely 
and  even  affectionately.  I  gave  him  the  proofs  of  our 
religion  to  which  he  could  make  no  answer,  but  it 
was  all  to  no  purpose.  I  coaxed  him,  urged  him, 
threatened  him,  promised  him,  prayed  with  him  and 
for  him.  It  was  of  no  avail.  Instead  of  softening  his 
heart  the  thought  of  religion  excited  within  him  most 
diabolical  rage.  Such  hatred  towards  God,  such  blas- 
phemies towards  Our  Saviour  and  His  Blessed  Mother 
it  has  never  entered  your  hearts  to  conceive,  nor  did 
I  believe  that  they  could  be  heard  this  side  of  hell. 
As  death  came  nearer  he  became  more  violent  and  vir- 
ulent than  ever  though  in  the  full  possession  of  his 
faculties.  As  I  spoke  of  God  he  raised  himself  in 
the  bed  with  the  little  strength  he  had  left,  tore  open 
the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  and  shaking  his  fist  at  the 
sky  he  spat  into  the  air  defying  God,  if  there  was 
one,  to  take  vengeance  on  him  there.  Although  he 
held  my  hand,  and  begged  me  to  stay  with  him,  the 
sight  of  the  holy  oils  which  I  took  out  set  him  in 
such  a  frenzy  that  he  yelled  like  a  demon  and  thus 
died.  Bearing  the  external  marks  of  reprobation  he 
was  buried  in  unconsecrated  ground.  God  grant  that 
he  knew  not  what  he  did,  or  the  extent  of  his  malice  ; 
but  it  shows  to  what  an  extremity  we  may  go.  Let  us 
add  to  our  daily  prayers  the  invocation  "  from  an 
unprovided  death,  O  Lord  deliver  us!" 

Portsmouth,  N.  H,,  Dec.  19,  1895. 
My  dear  Sister  : 

You  are  the  first  to  whom  I  write  "  Merry  Christ- 
mas   and    Happy    New    Year."      I   do    so   thus  early 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  153 

because  we  will  be  quite  busy  for  the  next  few  days 
and  I  will  not  have  much  opportunity.  Tomorrow  I 
am  going  to  Dover  for  an  ordination  and  next  week 
of  course  we  will  have  confessions.  I  will,  please 
God,  go  home  Christmas  day  and  be  there  for  sup- 
per and  the  little  joyous  family  reunion  that  we 
usually  have. 

It  is  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  the  year  and 
we  have  been  so  fortunate  in  being  all  in  good  health 
and  being  all  together.  You  may  be  sure  your  name 
is  often  mentioned  and  you  don't  seem  to  be  so  far 
away  from  us  either. 

We  are  going  to  have  a  very  beautiful  crib  here. 
It  has  just  arrived  from  France.  The  figures  are 
three  and  a  half  feet  high,  and  require  a  space  of 
fourteen  feet.  They  are  beautifully  done  and  are 
finished  like  those  little  statues  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
with  which  you  are  familiar. 

Fr.  D was  here  today  from  the  extreme  north 

country  and  told  me  how  he  keeps  Christmas 
there  with  his  few  simple  country  folk.  I  may  be 
there  myself  to  celebrate  next  year.  I  suppose  your 
celebration  will  be  pretty  much  as  ours  used  to  be 
in  the  seminary,  wholly  spiritual,  but  none  the  less 
joyful,  perhaps  the  more.  It  is  a  busy,  tiresome  day 
for  us,  but  a  happy  one  always,  and  the  only  one  we 
do  not  seem  to  outgrow.  We  have  not  many  desti- 
tute and  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  know  that  the  good 
time  is  shared  by  all  our  people. 

I  hope  you  found  Drummond  as  interesting  as  I  led 
you  to  expect.  I  preached  that  notion  of  "reflecting 
the  character  of  Christ,"  last  Sunday,  of  course  cred- 
iting it,  and  some  of  the  people  were  much  pleased 
with  the  idea.  I  only  wish  that  I  could  set  them  the 
example  as  well  as  indicate  to  them  the  way.  There 


154  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

are  a  few  other  books  by  the  same  author,  more 
scientific  but  nevertheless  interesting-  and  edifying, 
that  I  will  send  you  some  time  if  you  would  care  for 
them. 

I  will  try  to  find  a  little  present  for  you  but,  as 
you  can  imagine,  the  choice  is  restricted  in  a  town 
like  this  to  very  meager  articles.  "'Tis  not  what 
we  give  but  what  we  share,"  that  makes  the  gift  ap- 
preciated. I  will  give  you  a  Christmas  Mass  all  to 

yourself  and  I  know,  dear  K ,  you  will  prize  that 

most  and  you  will  say  a  heart-felt  prayer  for  me, 
won't  you?  I  will  not  be  able  to  see  you  this  time. 

Happy  Holy  Christmas  then,  dear  K ,  is  my  wish 

to  you  and  to  your  dear  Sisters,  and  Sister  Superior 
in  particular. 

Lovingly  yours  in  the  Infant  Jesus, 

JOHN. 

Portsmouth,  N.  H., 

June  26,  1896. 

You  are  no  doubt  wondering  why  I  did  not  keep 
my  promise  and  write  to  you  about  my  visit  to  New 
York.  I  was  very  busy  last  week  giving  the  children 
a  retreat  for  First  Communion  and  did  not  have  much 
time  to  write, 

I  had  a  very  pleasant  stay  in  New  York  and  found 
Father  Elliott  a  most  agreeable  and  kindly  man.  It 
was  a  real  treat  to  see  his  zeal  and  feel  his  enthusi- 
asm for  the  new  work.  The  Paulists  are  full  of  this 
matter  and  are  persuaded  it  is  the  great  crusade  of 
the  century.  They  are  to  organize  a  band  in  New 
York  City  in  the  Fall  and  they  will  make  things  hum. 
I  spent  a  few  hours  each  morning  with  Father  Elliott 
discussing  the  situation  in  New  Hampshire  and  what 
could  be  done.  He  gave  me  some  valuable  points  as  to 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  155 

mission  sermons.  In  the  afternoon  we  went  for  a  walk 
and  talked  the  matter  over  on  the  streets  or  in  the 
park,  so  that  I  came  home  with  my  head  full  of  it. 
I  wrote  to  the  Bishop,  but  of  course  nothing-  can  be 
done  definitely  until  Fall.  I  am  sending-  you  a  little 
book  by  Fr.  Elliott  which  will  give  you  the  best 
notion  of  his  methods  and  himself,  too. 

August  23,  1896. 

********** 

I  spent  the  second  week  of  my  vacation  in  the 
"  north  countree  "  and  so  may  not  be  able  to  see  you 
for  sometime.  I  suppose,  dear  Sister,  that  you  were 
not  missioned  this  year  or  you  would  have  told  me. 

The  family  was  much  pleased  with  your  letter  of 
condolence.  It  was  very  sad  having-  the  child  die 
away  from  home,  but  God  was  good  after  all.  Had 
the  child  died  a  week  before,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
at  the  point  of  death  even  then,  it  would  have  broken 
her  mother's  heart  for  she  was  not  at  all  prepared  or 
reconciled.  However,  God  bided  His  time  and  let  the 
little  one  ling-er  and  suffer  until  all  were  ready  and 
anxious  to  have  Him  take  her.  She  was  a  dear,  sweet 
little  child  that  we  all  loved  too  much.  As  Grand- 
mother said,  "She  is  none  too  good  for  heaven."  Her 
mother  would  have  felt  the  loss  much  more  but  the 
baby  has  been  so  ill  ever  since  it  has  taken  up  her 
attention  and  she  will  be  satisfied  if  God  spares  her. 
The  family  felt  it  very  much  and  being  here,  day 
and  night,  over  that  cradle,  went  through  a  siege 
they  never  before  experienced.  I  think  that  the 
sorrow  will  have  a  good  effect  on  us  all,  and  Alice, 
little  ang-el,  has  the  best  of  it. 

I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant  retreat — but  what  a 
scorching  you  got  from  the  weather! 


156  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

I  haven't  any  news  about  our  missions,  except  that 
they  are  to  begin  in  November.  I  am  afraid  Fr. 

E will    not    be    able    to    help    us   out,   as   he   is 

engaged  on  the  same  work  for  the  New  York  diocese. 

We  will  get  some  other  helper  and   do  what  we  can. 

********#*#* 

So  you  found  it  a  difficult  question,  an  unanswer- 
able one,  as  to  what  you  wanted.  I  was  disappointed 
that  you  would  not  help  me  to  make  a  selection.  I 
could  not  but  admire  your  contentment.  Did  you 
ever  hear  the  story  of  the  darky  that  was  told  to 
name  three  of  the  things  he  desired  most  in  the 
world?  After  deliberating  several  minutes  he  said  : 
"Well,  Marse  Joe,  I  want  a  pa'r  of  boots."  "Jack," 
said  the  master,  "when  you  consider  the  number  of 
good  things  in  this  world,  can't  you  think  of  some- 
thing better?  Try  again,  be  careful."  "Well,  Marse 
Joe,  I  always  want  to  have  plenty  of  fat  meat." 
"Now,  Jack,  you  have  only  one  more  chance.  Can't 
you  think  of  something  better  than  a  pair  of  boots 
and  fat  meat?"  After  thinking  a  while  he  gave  it 
up,  saying:  "Marse  Joe,  if  I  had  a  pair  of  boots  and 
plenty  of  fat  meat  I  doan'  want  nuthin'  mo!"  My 
dearest  sister,  I  do  not  for  a  moment  want  to  com- 
pare you  to  any  darky,  living  or  dead,  but  you 
remember  that  a  comparison  does  not  mean  a  simi- 
larity of  the  objects  compared  but  only  a  proportion. 
Of  course  I  am  only  joking,  and  I  know  full  well  the 
things  you  care  for,  and  the  only  things  you  care  for 
are  the  things  of  God,  and  it  is  from  Him  and  not 
from  me  that  you  ask  them.  These,  my  dear  girl, 
whatever  they  are,  I  pray  God  to  grant  you  as  the 
best  Christmas  present  you  can  have. 

You  have  heard  me  speak  of  Drummond's  "Natural 
Law  in  the  Spiritual  World."  I  tried  to  get  you  a 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  157 

copy,  but  could  not,  so  I  send  you  the  one  I  have 
used.  I  have  found  it  very  interesting-,  and  think  you 
will  find  it  profitable  reading.  There  are,  of  course, 
a  few  thing's  for  which  you  will  have  to  make  allow- 
ance, but  your  g-ood  sense  will  not  let  these  interfere 
with  the  usefulness  of  the  book. 

The  photo  I  am  sending-  is  a  copy  of  the  one  in 
my  room,  "The  Call  of  Peter  and  James  and  John." 
Perhaps  you  mig-ht  like  to  make  a  crayon  of  it,  or  if 
you  would  like  a  larg-er  one  I  will  g-et  it  for  you. 

I  will  not  be  able  to  spend  any  of  Christmas  at 
home  this  year,  coming-  as  it  does  on  Friday,  but  will 
g-o  home  the  following-  week.  There  will  be  three  of 
us  missing- — you  and  Fred  and  myself;  but  we  may 
all  thank  God  that  it  is  neither  sickness  nor  death 
that  keep  us,  but  only  the  "Father's  business." 

I  will  say  one  of  my  Christmas  Masses  for  you,  as 
usual.  Don't  forget  to  say  a  prayer  for  me,  as  I 
need  your  prayers  every  day,  and  appreciate  them 
more  than  all  beside.  Praying-  God  to  give  you  the 
abundance  of  His  blessings  at  this  holy  season,  I  am 

as  always 

************ 

We  had  our  retreat  last  week,  and  a  terribly  hot 
time  we  had.  The  preacher,  however,  was  first  class, 
and  that  made  up  for  a  great  deal.  This  week  I 

have  had  Father  McM from  Lowell  for  a  visit, 

and  enjoyed  his  company  very  much.  It  is  beautiful 
here  about  this  season,  and  much  more  comfortable 
than  inland.  I  would  like  to  be  able  to  send  you 
some  of  the  sea  breeze. 

We  are  all  interested  in  the  establishment  of  your 
house  of  studies  at  Washington.  It  speaks  well  for 
the  progressive  spirit  of  the  Order,  and  all  the  com- 
ments I  have  heard  are  very  favorable.  Sister 
Superior  Julia  has  a  g-ood  head  and  good  pluck. 


158  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

Our  Bishop  has  not  returned  from  Europe,  and  so 
there  is  no  news.  I  hope  that  the  Holy  Father  will 
urge  him  to  carry  out  the  plan  of  missions  he  con- 
templated. 

************ 

"Haec  dies  quam  fecit  Dominus,  exullemus  et 
laetemur  in  eia" — my  greeting  to  you  as  you  come 
out  of  your  shell  on  Easter  morning.  I  wish  you  all 
the  joys  and  blessings  of  that  happy  day.  When 
Christmas  comes  I  say  to  myself,  "This  is  the 
happiest  feast  of  the  year,"  but  when  Easter  is  here 
I  say  "Easter  is  the  more  joyful  time."  The  fact  is 
that,  like  the  seasons  of  the  year,  God  has  filled  each 
with  joys  and  beauties  of  its  own. 

I  hope  that  Lent  has  left  you  none  the  worse  of 
the  wear — physically,  of  course,  I  mean — and  that 
you  came  through  the  Valley  of  Silence  with  only  a 
temporary  suspension  of  your  faculties. 

Best  love  and  best  prayers  for  you  always. 
************ 

I  suppose  you  are  wondering  what  became  of  me 
since  my  trip  to  Washington.  Well,  I'm  "back  to 
the  old  home  again,"  pretty  much  as  if  I  had  never 
left  it. 

We  had  a  very  pleasant  trip,  and  Fr.  A and 

Fr.  D caught  up  to  us,  and  we  spent  most  of 

the  time  together.  We  were  fortunate  to  be  in 
Washington  in  those  exciting  days,  and  got  into  the 
Capitol  for  the  debates.  From  Washington  we  went 
to  Old  Point  Comfort,  one  night's  sail  on  the 
Potomac,  and  returned  the  following  night.  The 
season  was  a  month  ahead  of  our  own,  and  the  rich 
Southern  country  was  all  new  to  me  and  reminiscent 
of  historic  scenes — the  darkies  gave  color  to  the 
picture. 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  159 

You  wonder,  perhaps,  what  became  of  my  applica- 
tion for  chaplaincy  in  the  Navy.  When  I  left  you  I 
found  a  letter  from  the  Bishop,  saying  he  had  already 
granted  permission  to  one  of  his  priests  to  apply  for 
such  a  post,  and  he  thought  that  was  all  that  re- 
ligion and  patriotism  required  of  him.  That  almost 
settled  my  case.  However,  I  wrote  to  him  to  ask 
that  I  be  held  as  alternate  in  case  the  other  should 
be  rejected  for  any  reason,  and  so  the  matter  stands. 
*  *  ********** 

I  am  in  this  very  pretty  little  town  of  Hinsdale, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut,  in  sight  of  the 
Green  Mountains.  I  have  three  towns  to  attend,  and 
about  one  half  of  my  people  are  Canadians,  so  I  have 
good  practice  in  French  sermons. 

Last  week  I  gave  a  mission  to  non-Catholics,  and, 
with  somebody's  good  prayers,  it  was  a  very  consol- 
ing success.  The  people  came  in  good  numbers,  and 
the  interest  increased  from  night  to  night.  The 
Bishop  was  very  much  pleased  with  the  work." 


After  substituting  for  a  short  time  for  the  pastor 
at  Hinsdale,  Father  Delany  came,  in  1898,  to  St. 
Joseph's  Cathedral  in  Manchester  to  begin,  as  secre- 
tary to  Bishop  Bradley  and  chancellor  of  the  diocese, 
his  more  immediate  preparation  for  the  great  work 
that  was  to  follow.  Soon  after  when  the  Sisters  of  the 
Precious  Blood  built  their  Monastery  on  Union  street, 
Father  Delany  was  appointed  their  chaplain.  From 
that  time,  until  the  day  of  his  consecration,  he  said 
at  their  chapel  his  morning  Mass  and  preached  his 
Sunday  sermon;  he  heard  their  confessions,  gave  their 
retreats,  looked  after  their  temporal  affairs,  and  estab- 
lished, with  eleven  of  their  number,  a  new  house  of 


160  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

the  Order  in  Cuba.  He  was,  from  first  to  last,  their 
father  and  friend.  Besides  the  daily  duties  of  these 
offices,  Father  Delany  fulfilled  various  others,  more 
or  less  regularly,  which,  because  of  their  broader 
nature  served  to  make  him  widely  known  throughout 
the  State.  He  was  diocesan  director  of  the  League 
of  the  Sacred  Heart,  branches  of  which  he  established 
even  in  remote  districts;  he  was  director  of  the  So- 
ciety of  the  Holy  Childhood;  state  chaplain  of  the 
Knights  of  Columbus;  a  member  of  the  State  Conference 
of  Charities  and  Corrections,  and  had  charge  of  the 
State  missions  to  non-Catholics.  This  last  was  a  work 
dear  to  his  heart,  for,  while  he  did  not  expect  that 
these  lectures  would  make  Catholics  of  all  the  Pro- 
testants who  heard  them,  he  did  hope  that  they  would 
clear  away  much  of  the  existing  prejudice,  and  thus 
bring"  about,  if  not  religious  unity,  at  least  more  ami- 
cable civil  relations.  The  last  office  which  Bishop 
Bradley  assigned  Father  Delany  was  that  of  diocesan 
director  of  the  Priests'  Temperance  League,  whose 
members  pledged  themselves  to  further  the  cause  of 
temperance  by  every  means  in  their  power.  During 
these  years,  too,  he  became  known  as  an  interesting 
public  speaker,  and  was  frequently  called  upon  for 
lectures  and  addresses. 

Manchester,  N.  H., 

Sept.,  23,  1898. 

******* 

I  have  been  very  busy  organizing  the  League  in 
ditferent  parts  of  the  State  and  getting1  ready  for  the 
first  edition  of  my  magazine.  The  copy  is  now  in  the 
hands  of  the  printer  and  I  am  waiting  for  the  proof 
sheets.  I  will  send  you  one  of  the  first  copies  for  I 
know  I  will  have  no  more  anxious  nor  indulgent  reader. 
It  is  a  big  task  and  lots  of  work  and  worry,  but  I  don't 
grudge  it  if  it  comes  out  all  right  in  the  end.  *  * 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  161 

We  are  going-  to  have  the  Sisters  of  the  Precious 
Blood  here  and  the  Bishop  has  appointed  me  chaplain 
of  their  monastery.  They  are  a  contemplative  order 
like  the  Carmelites.  I  took  the  position  with  the  hope 
that  such  good,  holy,  highly-spiritual  women  will  give 
me  a  lift  in  that  direction  and  supply  in  a  measure 
what  has  long  been  wanting  in  myself.  They  are  ex- 
pected about  the  first  of  November. 

Dec.  8,  1898. 

Our  new  Sisters  have  arrived  and  are  creating  quite 
a  stir.  I  am  sure  their  very  presence  will  do  a  world 
of  good.  You  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  we  have 
already  buried  one  of  them.  She  was  very  sick  when 
she  came  but  no  one  looked  for  the  end  so  soon.  I 
assisted  in  extremis  and  she  died  a  most  holy  death. 

In  her  poor  surroundings  it  would  have  moved  any 
heart  to  see  how  patient,  how  resigned  she  was  to  die 
or  to  live  if  it  were  God's  Will,  and  how  happy  she 
felt  at  the  thought  of  seeing  Jesus  so  soon.  Speaking 
this  morning  over  the  white  pine  box  that  contained 
her  remains  I  could  not  but  recall  that  incident  in 
the  life  of  St.  Teresa  when  she  met  the  beautiful  Child 
in  the  convent  garden  and  asked  His  name — "Tell 
me  yours  first,"  said  He.  "My  name,"  said  the  saint, 
"is  Teresa  of  Jesus."  "Mine,"  said  the  Child,  "is 
Jesus  of  Teresa."  When  this  good  nun  will  give  her 
name  "Mary  of  Jesus  "at  the  gate  of  Heaven,  surely 
Our  Saviour  will  reveal  Himself  to  her  as  "Jesus  of 

Mary." 

************ 

We  read  of  saints  being  above  all  earthly  affection, 
scorning  the  ties  of  kindred,  etc.  Perhaps  this  may 
be  the  last  triumph  of  grace  but  it  is  not  the  ordinary 
way  that  God  works,  and  such  lives  do  not  in  the  least 


162  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

appeal  to  me.  They  may  be  supernatural  but  they 
always  seem  to  me  like  sticks  and  stones  that  never 
impel  to  imitation.  It  may  be  almost  heresy  to  say 
so  but  I  never  could  have  the  least  affection  for  the 
saint  of  whom  it  is  said  that  he  never  looked  his  mother 
in  the  face  *  *  *  *  I  need  not  tell  you  how  my  heart 
goes  with  these  lines,  need  I,  my  dear  sister?  I  pray 
God  to  bless  you  with  His  choicest  blessings. 
******* 

I  have  had  spme  pleasant  experiences  lately  with 
some  laborers  who  are  building  a  railroad  in  this  vi- 
cinity. They  live  in  camps  along  the  line  and  are 
mostly  Catholics.  I  spent  last  Sunday  night  with  them, 
and  such  a  night  it  was!  I  heard  confessions  all  night 
long,  and  said  Mass  for  them  in  a  stable  on  Monday 
morning.  In  such  surroundings  I  could  not  but  think 
of  the  first  coming  of  our  Blessed  Saviour  into  this 
world.  It  was  a  stable  He  chose  for  his  dwelling,  and 
I  took  this  thought  for  the  subject  of  my  sermon  to 
these  poor  men. 

******* 

Dec.  22,  1898. 

Once  more  I  wish  you  a  Merry  Christmas  and  a 
Happy  New  Year,  and  I  do  it  with  all  my  heart. 

Last  night  I  received  a  very  touching  Christmas 
present.  I  don't  know  whether  I  ever  told  you  of  a 

Sister  P of  Brooklyn,  whom  I  met  in  Portsmouth, 

and  who  used  to  send  me  a  little  box  each  year.  She 
was  a  very  genial,  holy  soul,  and  full  to  overflowing  of  re- 
ligion, pure  and  undefiled.  This  year  she  was  getting 
my  box  ready  when,  that  very  night,  she  was  striken 
with  apoplexy,  and  died.  Her  sister  sent  on  the  box 
just  as  it  was,  and  as  I  opened  it,  on  the  card  within 
appeared  her  message,  I  hope  from  Heaven — "God 
bless  you  I" 

I  will  offer  one  of  my  Christmas  Masses  for  you  as 
usual.  Say  a  good  prayer  for  me  that  day. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  163 

In  1898,  with  the  encouragement  of  his  Bishopt 
the  young1  Chancellor  instituted  "The  Guidon,"  an 
excellent  monthly  magazine,  in  which  the  sublimity 
and  sweetness  of  our  holy  faith  were  set  before  the 
people  in  excellent  literary  and  artistic  form.  The 
doctrines  and  discipline  of  the  Church,  their  exempli- 
fications in  consecrated  and  most  useful  lives,  their 
out-flowering-  in  art,  music,  and  literature  —  these 
were  the  topics  in  which  the  editor's  pen  was 
most  happy  and  faithful.  He  retained  the  editor- 
ship of  this  publication  until  his  promotion  to  the 
Episcopate,  when,  of  necessity,  it  had  to  pass  to  other 
hands.  Bishop  Delany's  last  literary  works  over  his 
own  name  were  the  introduction  which  he  contributed 
to  the  recently  published  Life  of  his  beloved  prede- 
cessor and  his  Pastoral  in  English  and  French  on 
Christian  Education. 

The  duties  of  office  and  editorship  by  no  means 
exhausted  the  zeal  and  vigor  of  the  young  priest.  He 
believed  in  those  extra-parochial  organizations  of  Cath- 
olics which  are  now  so  greatly  advancing  the  Catholic 
cause.  So  he  was  not  only  a  member,  but  the  State 
Chaplain  of  the  Knights  of  Columbus  in  New  Hamp- 
shire. He  believed  in  meeting  our  separated  brethren 
on  the  common  ground  of  patriotism,  citizen  spirit, 
and  public  benevolence,  for  he  was  on  the  State  Board 
of  Charities,  and  an  active  member  of  its  Committee  on 
Dependent  Children.  A  good  Catholic  American,  he 
loved  the  natural  virtues  of  his  fellow  citizens  of  other 
faiths  in  the  spirit  of  Christ  to  those  "not  of  his  fold," 
and  he  wished  to  give  them  the  chance  to  see  the 
Church  in  its  truth  and  beauty.  He  was  at  the  head 
of  Manchester  Apostalate,  with  its  missionary  work  for 
non-Catholics  as  well  as  Catholics. 


164  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

Sept.  16,  1902. 

******* 

All  aboard  for  Cuba!  Our  arrangements  are  all  made 
and  I  expect  to  start  with  my  little  band  one  week 
from  to-morrow.  We  will  leave  Manchester  on  Wed- 
nesday the  28th,  and  sail  from  New  York  on  Saturday. 
The  Sisters  will  spend  a  few  days  at  their  old  mon- 
astery in  Brooklyn.  Cuba  is  a  four  days'  sail,  and  we 
expect  to  be  in  Havana  on  the  following1  Wednesday. 
I  do  not  know  how  long  I  will  stay.  There  will  be 
eleven  sisters  in  the  party,  five  of  whom  are  Cubans. 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  the  trip  when  I  return. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  GOOD  CIGAR. 

Havana,  Cuba,  Oct.  1902. 

Last  night  I  sat  at  the  end  of  the  Prado  listening 
to  the  music  of  the  military  band  and  watching  the 
light  of  Moro  Castle,  which  stands  across  the  bay, 
blinking  like  a  sleepy  Cyclops.  Not  two  hundred 
yards  away,  the  fighting  foretop  of  the  battleship 
Maine  and  a  few  twisted  remnants  of  a  hull,  marked 
the  last  resting  place  of  a  hundred  gallant  sailors. 
The  sky  was  as  clear  as  if  never  flecked  by  a  cloud, 
the  air  was  warm  as  our  hottest  August  nights, 
though  a  little  breeze  came  off  the  water.  The  scene 
about  was  the  gayest  of  the  gay.  The  white  duck 
suits  and  large  rounded  hats  of  the  men,  the  man- 
tilla framing  the  lovely  dark  faces  of  the  women,  and 
a  good  sprinkling  of  negroes  in  all  degrees  of  pic- 
turesqueness  came  and  went  under  the  myriads  of 
electric  lights.  What  wonder  if  I  thought  of  nothing 
else!  But  "le  nuit  porte  conseil "  and  this  morning 
it  dawned  on  me  that  it  was  after  the  first  of  the  month 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  165 

and  there  was  such  a  thing-  as  the  Guidon,  but  really 
the  concern  it  gave  me  was  very  little.  There  is  a 
charm  and  quietness  about  Havana  I  never  found 
elsewhere.  It  is  not  only  ancient  but  oriental  as  well, 
with  a  Moorish  flavor.  From  the  sea  in  the  early 
morning,  the  sight  of  the  city  would  charm  the  gods. 
Its  pink  and  blue  walls,  surrounded  by  the  loveliest 
green  on  the  hills  and  the  red  soil  of  the  roads  and 
cliffs  make  a  rare  combination.  The  streets  are  about 
thirty  feet  wide  with  side  walks  of  eighteen  inches, 
some  of  them  completely  covered  by  awnings.  The 
houses  are  all  of  stone,  and  the  rooms  are  posted 
twenty-five  feet.  The  windows  have  no  glass  but  have 
shutters  and  artistically  designed  iron  gratings. 

Of  course  I  have  seen  the  Archbishop  and  have  an 
appointment  with  the  U.  S.  minister  at  ten  this  morning. 


OUR  NEW  RELIGIOUS  FOUNDATION  IN  CUBA. 

An  invasion  of  Cuba  took  place  the  first  of  last 
month.  It  was  not  heralded  in  the  newspapers  at  the 
time,  but  it  is  an  event  whose  importance  may  be  far 
reaching  in  the  future.  The  expedition  was  organ- 
ized in  Manchester,  N.  H.,  and  consisted  of  eleven 
women,  five  of  them  Cubans,  sisters  of  the  Precious 
Blood,  and  their  chaplain.  No  secrecy  was  maintained, 
though  no  special  publicity  was  given  to  the  matter, 
and  the  route  taken  by  the  party  was  that  usually 
followed  by  travelers  from  New  York  to  Havana. 
No  opposition  was  met  until  reaching  the  custom 
house,  when  certain  suspicious  looking  boxes  were 
detected  by  the  keen-eyed  officials.  They  demanded 
to  know  the  contents,  and  as  they  tugged  and  pulled 
at  the  unwieldly  crates  they  were  told  the  heavy 


166  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

boxes  held  supplies  for  the  foundation  of  a  new 
religious  community.  From  the  looks  on  the  men's 
faces  we  judged  they  thought  we  had  brought  bricks 
along  with  us.  An  examination  of  the  luggage  revealed 
nothing  more  dangerous  than  a  printing  press,  sewing 
machines,  a  handsome  Estey  organ,  the  first,  by  the 
way,  ever  brought  to  the  island,  and  intended  only  to  pro- 
mote harmony  ;  a  dozen  little  oratories,  each  containing 
all  the  earthly  belongings  of  a  Sister.  No  more  in- 
criminating evidence  being  found,  the  expedition  was 
allowed  to  land  and  the  little  band  began  the  work 
of  capturing  souls  for  Jesus. 

To  understand  better  the  nature  of  their  mission 
we  ought  to  go  back  awhile. 

Four  years  ago,  at  the  invitation  of  the  Bishop  of 
Manchester,  twelve  Sisters  of  the  Precious  Blood 
came  from  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  and  established  them- 
selves in  our  episcopal  city.  A  modest  cottage  house 
was  their  first  abode  and  this  was  transformed  as 
well  as  could  be  into  the  condition  of  a  monastery, 
with  a  small  chapel  and  cloistered  apartments  for  the 
religious.  God  blessed  the  work.  A  larger  chapel 
was  soon  begun  and  finished  and  the  ten  thousand 
dollars  it  cost  were  soon  raised  and  paid  off.  From 
the  first,  the  Cenacle,  as  this  new  home  of  religion 
was  called,  became  a  centre  of  piety.  To-day,  the 
chapel  is  bright,  attractive,  and  devotional.  Over  its 
tasteful  altar  and  against  a  pictured  scene  of  Calvary, 
stands  a  full-sized  group,  a  bleeding  Christ  upon  the 
cross,  His  sorrowing  Mother,  St.  John,  and  Mary 
Magdalen  weeping  at  its  foot.  Everything  about  the 
chapel  speaks  of  the  devotion  inculcated,  that  of 
honoring  the  Precious  Blood  of  Jesus  wherein  the  sins 
of  the  world  are  washed  away.  Little  by  little  the 
daily  life  of  the  community  became  known  and  ad- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  167 

mired.  Theirs  is  a  life  of  prayer  and  immolation. 
At  midnight  the  Sisters  rise  to  chant  the  office  of 
Matins.  At  one  o'clock  they  retire  to  rise  again  at 
five.  Mass  is  celebrated  at  half-past  six  and  during 
the  day  the  rest  of  the  office  is  sung  according-  to 
the  canonical  hours.  Watchers  succeed  each  other 
day  and  night  in  perpetual  adoration  of  our  Blessed 
Lord  in  the  Holy  Eucharist.  The  community  lives 
on  the  bounty  of  the  faithful.  During  their  years  in 
our  city,  like  the  birds  of  the  air,  they  took  no  thought 
of  the  morrow,  and  the  good  God  who  provides  for 
the  humblest  of  His  creatures  has  not  forgotten  these, 
His  devoted  children.  If  this  trust  and  confidence 
speak  well  for  the  Sisters,  it  does  hardly  less  so  for 
the  thoughtful  charity  of  so  many  good  people  in 
Manchester,  who  never  for  a  day  have  forgotten  the 
recluses  of  the  monastery  and  let  them  go  unprovided. 

For  some  months  the  foundation  of  a  new  home  in 
Cuba  was  under  consideration  and  at  last  the  dream 
was  realized. 

Wednesday,  September  25th,  was  the  day  fixed  for 
departure  of  the  colony.  It  was  the  feast  of  Our 
Lady  of  Mercy.  In  the  morning  the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop 
himself  said  Mass  in  the  monastery  chapel  and  invoked 
God's  blessing  on  the  undertaking.  Mass  was  followed 
by  Benediction  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament.  The  good- 
bys  and  God-speeds  were  spoken  and  the  Sisters  left 
their  cloister  home  never  to  return.  A  number  of 
friends  had  assembled  at  the  railroad  station  to  say 
adieu,  and  these  with  so  many  religious  in  the  midst 
and  the  demonstrations  of  affection  they  excited  caused 
quite  a  little  stir  as  the  train  drew  in. 

A  stop  of  two  days  was  made  at  the  Monastery  of 
the  Precious  Blood,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  where  Mother 
St.  Gertrude  and  several  of  the  Sisters,  now  en 


168  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

route  for  Cuba,  had  been  received  into  religious  life. 
It  is  needless  to  say  a  warm  welcome  awaited  them, 
and  the  two  days  spent  there  were  a  veritable  ovation. 
Saturday  at  three  o'clock  found  us  steaming*  out  to 
sea.  Though  the  day  was  fair,  there  was  quite  a 
swell  on  the  ocean,  and  the  pangs  of  parting  were 
soon  supplanted  by  the  pangs  of  mal  de  mer.  But 
the  less  said  about  that  the  better.  The  next  morning 
dawned  beautiful.  The  sea  was  placid,  the  weather 
became  warmer,  the  water  began  to  take  on  the  blue 
of  the  tropics.  It  was  Sunday.  We  did  the  best  we 
could  to  keep  the  day  holy.  The  dining  saloon  was 
cleared,  the  sideboard  draped  with  flags  and  a  little 
table  set  between  the  rows  of  seats  to  serve  as  a 
pulpit  or  altar.  Notice  was  posted  and  the  gong 
sounded  at  11  A.  M.  for  divine  service.  Most  of  the 
cabin  passengers  attended.  We  resolved  to  have  a 
"dry"  Mass,  as  it  is  called,  and  to  assist  at  least  in 
spirit  at  the  Holy  Sacrifice  since  we  could  not  attend 
in  body.  The  Sisters  sang  the  Ave  Maris  Stella,  for 
it  was  the  feast  of  the  Seven  Sorrows  of  Our  Lady, 
to  invoke  her  who  is  called  the  Star  of  the  Sea  for 
a  pleasant,  prosperous  voyage.  The  chaplain  then 
read  the  prayers  of  the  Mass  in  English,  the  little 
congregation  kneeling,  standing,  sitting,  as  we  do 
when  assisting  in  church  at  home.  After  the  gospel 
came  the  sermon.  The  subject  chosen  for  a  last 
instruction  was  "The  Love  for  God,  in  the  Person 
of  Christ  Jesus."  As  this  was  the  intention  of  prayer 
for  the  month,  so,  too,  it  seemed  singularly  fitted  for 
a  parting  word  between  the  shepherd  and  the 
little  flock  he  was  to  leave  behind.  He  spoke 
of  the  love  of  Jesus,  in  the  person  of  the 
Apostles  and  early  martyrs;  how  that  love  abid- 
ed in  faithful  hearts  throughout  all  the  cen- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  169 

turies  since.  That  it  still  abides,  strong1,  vigorous, 
fruitful,  your  presence  here  testifies.  At  His  call 
you  have  left  father,  mother,  sisters,  brothers,  houses 
and  land,  perhaps  never  to  see  them  again.  But  fear 
not,  little  flock,  it  has  pleased  your  heavenly  Father 
to  give  you  a  kingdom.  Yours  will  be  the  reward, 
a  hundred-fold  here  and  life  everlasting1. 

After  the  sermon  "Mass"  proceeded,  through  the 
holy  words  of  consecration.  How  solemn  they  sounded 
"This  is  My  Body — this  is  My  Blood,  "though  there  were 
no  sacred  species  there.  The  heart  and  thoughts  of 
my  little  flock  were  far  away,  I  am  sure,  over  the  sea, 
where,  at  the  Cenacle  they  had  left,  the  Holy  Sacrifice 
was  really  offered  this  morning,  or  perhaps  at  that 
other  Cenacle  where  Jesus  Himself  celebrated  the  divine 
mystery  for  the  first  time. 

At  the  close  of  the  "Mass "the  sisters  sang1  a  few 
stanzas  of  the  Stabat  Mater.  Our  impromptu  church 
service  was  quite  complete,  we  only  omitted  the 
collection. 

The  presence  of  the  little  community  excited  no  end 
of  curiosity  among1  the  passengers.  Who  are  they? 
Where  are  they  going1?  What  are  they  going  for? 
When  told  they  were  Sisters  of  the  Precious  Blood, 
going  to  Havana  to  establish  a  new  home,  this  was 
satisfactory,  so  far,  but  when  told  these  Sisters  were 
of  a  cloistered  order  whose  mission  required  them  to 
be  sequestered  from  the  world  and  whose  office  was 
principally  of  prayer,  this  was  by  no  means  so  intel- 
ligible to  the  Yankee  mind,  whose  god  is  Mammon  and 
whose  service  is  hustle.  No  matter,  they  may  live  to 
learn  that  "more  things  are  wrought  by  prayer  than 
we  have  dreamt  in  our  philosophy."  All  were  exceed- 
ingly kind,  however,  and  nothing  was  spared  to  make 
the  Sisters  happy. 


170  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

The  third  day  out  we  came  to  the  coast  of  Florida 
and  ran  near  enough  to  the  shore  to  see  the  hotels 
at  Palm  Beach  and  the  buildings  at  Miami  harbor. 
All  day  long1  we  followed  the  line  of  shore,  and  in  the 
evening  saw  the  last  of  the  lights  on  the  keys,  then 
struck  across  the  Gulf. 

The  first  streaks  of  morning  found  us  off  Havana. 
The  pink  flush  of  dawn  overspread  the  sky  and  the 
lights  of  the  city  still  glistened.  Morro-Castle's  re- 
volving light  blinked  like  a  sleepy  Cyclops.  As  day- 
light advanced  what  a  picture  in  color  the  whole  scene 
presented.  The  buildings  wore  a  shade  of  pink;  they 
were  low  and  stately  and  somewhat  of  the  Moorish  style 
of  architecture.  The  brilliant  green  of  the  surround- 
ing hills  and  country  was  intersected  by  roadways  of 
yellow  and  red.  The  harbor  is  small,  with  hardly 
any  approach  and  once  you  pass  the  sentinel  lighthouse 
you  are  in  a  perfect  land-locked  bay.  The  sounding 
of  our  steamer's  whistle  seemed  to  awake  the  sleeping 
harbor.  We  had  scarcely  reached  our  mooring  buoy, 
(vessels  do  not  cast  anchor  here  for  fear  of  riling 
disease  from  the  bottom),  when  from  all  sides  came 
creeping  upon  us  a  fleet  of  queer  little  lighters  and  tugs 
of  officials,  and  by  the  time  we  were  made  fast,  our 
huge  steamer  was  surrounded  three  or  four  deep  by 
all  kinds  and  sizes  of  crafts. 

I  venture  to  say  that  the  first  searching  glance  of 
every  American  on  board  was  for  the  relics  of  the 
battleship  Maine.  And  sure  enough,  there  she  was, 
or  at  least  all  that  is  left  of  her,  a  mass  of  twisted 
iron,  but  her  fighting  top  still  stands  defiant,  high  out 
of  the  water.  Beneath  are  the  bones  of  a  hundred  of  our 
gallant  sailors,  if  the  sharks  have  left  even  these.  It's 
a  gruesome  sight  and  one  that  for  decency's  sake  should 
be  removed. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  171 

The  Sisters  were  expected,  and,  early  as  it  was, 
among-  the  little  tug's  that  made  their  way  to  our  side 
was  one  to  bid  them  welcome  and  to  take  them 
ashore.  In  the  group  on  deck  were  four  priests,  and 
our  American  Sisters  saw  for  the  first  time  the  habit 
of  the  native  clergy.  Two  Carmelite  Fathers  wore 
the  brown  habit  of  their  Order,  with  cowl  and 
sandals,  and  as  they  removed  their  broad,  white  felt 
hats  they  showed  their  shaven  heads.  The  secular 
priests  were  dressed  in  black  cassock,  with  the 
Roman  cloak,  and  they  wore  black  bell-crowned  hats. 
One  of  these  two  was  Father  Estrada,  Vicar-General 
of  the  diocese  of  Havana,  through  whose  instrumen- 
tality the  Sisters  came  to  Cuba.  The  first  visit  in 
the  new  land  was  to  the  Church  of  the  Carmelites. 
The  bells  rang-  out  a  glad  welcome  and  the  organ 
rolled  out  its  sweet  music.  The  Sisters,  entering, 
prostrated  themselves  for  a  moment  at  the  door, 
then,  rising,  formed  a  procession  to  the  altar.  Father 
Estrada  intoned  the  Te  Deum,  and  at  its  close  sang 
the  customary  prayers  for  occasions  of  this  kind.  A 
sermon  was  delivered  by  one  of  the  great  preachers 
of  the  city. 

Leaving  the  church,  the  Sisters  paid  their  respects 
to  the  Archbishop  at  the  Episcopal  Palace.  His  Grace 
received  them  most  affably,  extending  to  them  a  cor- 
dial welcome,  and  gave  them  his  paternal  blessing. 

From  here  they  went  to  their  new  home,  the  first 
monastery  of  the  Precious  Blood  in  Cuba.  What 
were  the  first  impressions  of  the  little  band  at  the 
sight  of  its  new  domicile  I  cannot  say,  but  no  doubt 
their  hearts  were  filled  with  conflicting  emotions  — 
everything  was  so  strange  and  so  different  from  the 
country  they  left.  The  kind  thoughtfulness  of  new 
friends  forestalled  them.  The  altar  of  their  house 


172  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

chapel  was  already  in  place  and  covered  with  an 
abundance  of  flowers.  Breakfast  was  awaiting-  them, 
and  a  darky  cook  bustled  about  to  give  them  their 
first  Cuban  meal,  while  a  company  of  friends  crowded 
the  building  and  the  little  black  faces  of  the  children 
peered  through  the  grated  windows. 

These  are  but  temporary  quarters  for  the  Sisters. 
The  monastery  intended  for  them  by  the  Archbishop 
is  not  ready  for  occupancy.  Subirano  2  is  like  most 
of  the  dwelling-houses  in  Havana.  Its  exterior  is 
plain  and  neat.  Like  all  of  the  buildings  there  is 
nothing  on  the  outside  to  indicate  the  purpose  of  its 
use.  In  answer  to  the  sound  of  a  brass  knocker  you 
are  admitted  into  a  reception  room.  The  floors  are 
made  of  beautiful  tiles,  and  its  groined  ceiling  is 
fully  twenty-five  feet  high.  Off  this  leads  another 
room  like  the  first,  with  white  walls  and  blue  tinted 
trimmings,  that  serves  as  a  chapel.  Around  and 
behind  the  altar  will  be  placed  the  lattice  work  to 
form  a  cloister  for  the  community.  There  are  no 
glass  windows,  nor  are  there  any  in  the  houses  in 
Cuba,  but  large  casements,  fully  twelve  feet  high, 
with  shutters  within  and  beautifully  wrought  iron 
gratings  without.  Of  course  all  the  accessories  of  a 
home  are  found  here,  not  excepting  a  spacious  tiled 
roof,  where  the  Sisters,  like  all  natives  of  these  warm 
regions,  can  get  the  cool  evening  breeze. 

During  my  stay  at  Havana  I  shared  the  hospitality 
of  the  Augustinian  Fathers  at  St.  Augustine's  College, 
an  English-speaking  day  school  for  boys.  Adjoining 
the  college  is  the  chapel  of  St.  Augustine,  which 
formed  part  of  the  old  church  and  monastery  served 
by  the  Augustinians  since  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Father  Jones,  O.S.A.,  the  rector  of 
the  house,  kindly  suggested  that  I  tell  the  English- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  173 

speaking-  colony,  which  attends  this  church,  of  the 
coming1  of  the  new  community,  and  try  to  interest 
them  in  its  behalf.  The  Sunday  after  our  arrival  I 
celebrated  the  principal  Mass  at  St.  Augustine's.  I 
took  that  occasion  to  answer  the  question  so  often 
asked — Why  send  a  Sisterhood  here  whose  office  is 
only  prayer?  Why  not  one  occupied  with  the  active, 
exterior  works  of  religion,  such  as  teaching-,  nursing-, 
or  the  like?  We  answer,  these  latter  offices  will  not 
be  neglected,  and  those  who  are  eng-ag-ed  in  the 
active  works  will  be  the  first  to  acknowledge  the 
necessity  of  prayer  to  sanctify  and  to  fructify  the 
ministry  of  their  hands.  It  was  the  uplifted  arms  of 
Moses  and  his  prayers  that  did  more  to  win  victory 
for  the  people  of  God  than  did  the  brave  strokes  of 
the  faithful  soldiers.  This  island  has  been  steeped 
in  blood,  and  blood  has  been  the  price  of  its  liberty. 
But  the  cause  is  only  half  won.  There  is  another 
enemy,  vanquished  only  by  the  blood  of  Jesus.  This 
is  the  Blood  we  would  sprinkle  on  the  door  posts  of 
the  new  republic,  so  that  the  Destroying-  Angel  may 
pass  it  by.  This  is  the  purpose  of  the  community 
we  send  to  make  known  and  honored  and  glorified 
the  Precious  Blood  of  Jesus.  Such  is  the  story  of  the 
second  invasion  of  Cuba. 

"You  came  to  us  once,  O  brethren,  in  wrath, 
And  death  and  destruction  followed  your  path ; 
You  conquered  us  then,  but  only  in  part, 
For  a  stubborn  thing-  is  the  human  heart." 

In  gentleness,   patience,  zeal,  and   devotedness  this 
little  band  sets  out  to  make  the  victory  complete. 


174  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

I  suppose  you  are  already  wondering1  how  I  got 
here.  Well,  we  got  only  as  far  south  as  Norfolk. 
We  were  delayed  twenty-four  hours  in  leaving-  Bos- 
ton, and  missed  the  Savannah  Boat.  However,  after 
my  experience  on  the  two  days'  trip  to  Norfolk,  I 
was  not  sorry.  My  worst  anticipations  were  realized, 
About  every  story  of  sea-sickness  you  ever  heard 
would  fit  my  case, — even  that  of  the  passenger  who, 
when  asked  by  the  sentimental  maiden  if  the  moon 
was  up,  replied  that  if  it  was  inside  of  him  it  was 
up  long  ago. 

We  found  Norfolk  in  rather  a  disturbed  state, 
owing  to  a  street  car  strike.  The  militia  was  on 
duty  and  had  the  place  practically  under  martial  law. 
If  you  never  saw  a  Southern  city,  you  have  little  idea 
of  the  conditions  that  abound.  And  the  darky!  how 
can  I  describe  him?  Lazy,  shiftless,  happy,  dirty; 
in  all  shades  from  a  cream  to  ebony,  in  all  condi- 
tions from  the  little  cherub  you  feel  like  stealing  to 
the  poor,  blind,  crippled  beggar,  and  the  mammy  with 
her  head  always  tied  up  in  white  or  colors.  They 
seem  to  thrive  on  sunshine  and  dirt.  Sometimes  they 
fish.  It  is  common  enough  to  see  a  big  darky  lying 
asleep  in  an  old  flat-bottom  dory,  with  the  fish  line  tied 
to  his  toe.  If  he  gets  a  bite,  he  wakes  up  and  pulls 
in.  Izaak  Walton  never  invented  a  better  compromise 
between  fishing  and  idleness  than  this. 

Richmond,  a  beautiful  city  of  a  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants,  surprised  me  very  much  by  its  size  and 
modern  appearance.  We  went  this  morning  to  the 
battlefields  of  Seven  Pines  or  Fair  Oaks  as  it  is  com- 
monly called  in  the  North.  We  had  for  guide  an  old 
fellow  who  had  been  on  the  ground  thirty-seven  years, 
and  he  "shouldered  his  crutch  and  showed  how  the 
field  was  won."  My  only  impression  now  is  of  a 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  175 

long-  line  of  mound  over  which  the  contending  armies 
crossed  and  re-crossed  for  a  single  day,  until  they 
left  on  the  field  fifteen  thousand  of  their  number. 
It  is  no  wonder  the  soil  is  red  here  and  that  the 
River  James  in  the  spring  flood  runs  almost  brick 
color, — of  course  they  tell  us  it  is  from  the  composi- 
tion of  the  soil,  but  the  blood  shed  about  Richmond 
would  be  enough  to  account  for  it  all. 

Jeff  Davis  is  buried  here  and  so  are  Presidents  Tyler 
and  Monroe.  Tyler  has  a  little  stone  that  cost  thirty- 
five  dollars — so  the  man  told  me  who  put  it  up  —  as 
the  only  monument  to  mark  his  last  resting  place. 
The  monuments  are  all  poor;  poor  in  taste  and  poor 
in  execution.  I  wonder  if  this  is  to  be  accounted 
for  by  the  fact  that  they  were  nearly  all  erected  by 
some  patriotic  women  societies? 

To-morrow  I  am  going  to  the  Virginia  Historical 
Society  to  see  if  I  can  find  anything  by  way  of  corres- 
pondence between  Davis  and  Franklin  Pierce  —  here 
is  where  the  Guidon  comes  in — then  start  at  once  for 
Washington. 


17f>  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


FATHER  DELANY  AS  EDITOR 
OF  GUIDON. 


FIRST  EDITORIAL  BY  FATHER  DELANY. 
OCTOBER,  1898. 


SALUTATORY. 

With  the  present  issue  of  the  Guidon  we  make  our 
formal  entry  into  the  lists  of  journalism,  and,  saluting 
the  public,  proceed  to  introduce  ourselves.  The  rea- 
son for  the  existence  of  such  a  magazine  as  we  propose 
to  publish  is  the  need  of  it,  and  a  better  excuse  for 
being  could  hardly  be  found. 

New  Hampshire  holds  within  her  borders  one  hun- 
dred thousand  Catholics,  and,  up  to  the  present  time, 
has  had  no  distinctively  Catholic  publication  of  her  own. 
These  children  of  the  Church  are  spread  out  over  a 
vast  area,  many  of  them  in  little  towns  and  villages  far 
removed  from  Catholic  influences  that  should  enter 
daily  into  their  lives. 

Now  the  Catholic  religion  is  not  something  for  one 
day  in  the  week,  to  be  put  on  or  off  with  our  Sunday 
clothes.  It  is  for  every  day  in  the  year,  and  for 
every  action  in  our  lives,  and  whatever  keeps  this 
thought  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  our  people  will 
bring  them  closer  to  the  spirit  of  the  Church.  It  is 
with  the  hope  to  supply  in  some  measure  this  want, 
that  we  undertake  the  work,  and  any  one  who  has 
experienced  the  wholesome  effects  of  the  presence  of 
a  good  Catholic  journal  in  the  family  will  realize  that 
this  hope  is  well  founded. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  177 

What  the  good  paper  does  for  the  family  it  does  in 
a  greater  degree  for  the  community  in  which  it  circu- 
lates. Its  influence  is  widespread  and  lasting.  "It 
is,"  said  our  Holy  Father,  Leo  XIII.,  "a  continual 
mission." 

Our  purpose  will  be  to  furnish  such  reading  to 
the  home  as  will  interest  and  edify,  to  keep  our  own 
people  informed  on  whatever  may  be  of  interest  or 
importance  to  the  Church  in  general  or  to  the  diocese 
in  particular,  and  to  enlighten  those  outside  the  fold 
on  the  teaching  and  practice  of  our  holy  religion. 

A  glance  through  our  different  departments  will 
show  the  scope  we  strive  to  embrace.  The  "  League 
of  the  Sacred  Heart "  is  intended  for  the  spiritual 
nourishment  of  the  soul.  The  "Instruction  in  Cate- 
chism "  is  meant  to  interest  the  little  ones  in  the 
great  truths  of  religion.  The  "Good-reading  Columns" 
will  stimulate  the  appetite  for  what  is  wholesome  and 
elevating  in  literature.  The  "  Question  Box "  will 
remove  doubts  and  difficulties  that  stand  between  us 
and  the  truth,  and  participating  in  the  great  work  of 
the  "  Propagation  of  the  Faith  "  will  aid  to  bring  about 
what  we  daily  pray  for,  "  Thy  Kingdom  Come." 

Many  of  our  people  in  this  State  speak  French, 
and  these  have  not  been  overlooked  in  the  work.  A 
portion  of  our  magazine  will  be  published  in  their 
language,  and  all  that  concerns  them  and  their  inter- 
ests will  receive  its  due  importance. 

This  is  the  task  we  have  set  ourselves,  and  this  is 
the  work  which,  God  helping,  we  hope  to  accomplish. 


OUR   NAME. 

The  League  of  the  Sacred  Heart  is  a  spiritual 
militia,  and  for  that  reason  we  have  chosen  a  military 
title  for  our  magazine.  The  guidon  is  the  little  flag 
carried  by  a  soldier  on  the  right  of  the  line  in 


178  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

platoon  formation.  We  hardly  dared  call  our  work  the 
"Standard,"  or  to  make  ourselves  the  rallying-  point 
in  time  of  battle,  but  just  the  little  ensign  that  helps 
to  keep  the  line  straight  in  "the  piping  times  of 
peace."  The  word  "guidon"  was  applied  also  to  one 
of  a  community  established  by  Charlemagne  at  Rome 
for  the  purpose  of  guiding  pilgrims  to  the  Holy  Land. 
This,  too,  in  a  mystical  sense,  will  be  our  office,  to 
guide  those  committed  to  our  care  to  the  City  of  the 
Heavenly  Jerusalem. 

It  was,  however,  as  founder  and  editor  of  the  Guidon 
that  Father  Delany  was  best  known  throughout  New 
England.  In  October,  1898,  Bishop  Bradley  began 
the  publication  of  this  diocesan  magazine,  and  placed 
Father  Delany  in  editorial  charge.  The  position  was 
unenviable.  Priests  and  people  alike  were  sceptical 
of  success,  and  free  to  predict  the  doom  of  the  ven- 
ture. For  a  long  time  Bishop  and  editor  stood  alone, 
but  they  worked  quietly  on,  apparently  unmindful  of 
criticism,  and  their  confidence  was  at  last  rewarded. 
At  the  end  of  six  years,  the  Guidon  had  won  the 
recognition  of  its  fellows,  and  the  approval  of  the 
highest  dignitaries  in  the  country.  Its  editorials  were 
widely  quoted,  and  it  wielded  a  power  not  to  be 
ignored.  It  was  a  vindication  of  its  founder's  judg- 
ment, and  a  monument  to  its  first  editor's  indomita- 
ble will  and  indefatigable  courage. 

Only  a  few  of  the  Guidon  editorials  written  by 
Father  Delany  can  be  mentioned  here,  for  they  are 
so  many  in  number  that  they  would  fill  a  complete 
volume.  It  is  hoped  that  some  day  they  will  appear 
in  a  separate  form,  in  answer  to  the  many  requests 
that  have  been  made  for  their  publication. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  179 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  CHURCH  DURING  THE  NINETEENTH 
CENTURY. 

As  the  end  of  the  century  approaches  it  is  only 
natural  to  look  back  over  the  span  we  have  passed  to 
see  how  the  cycle  of  years  has  left  us.  In  politics, 
science,  literature  and  art  the  accounts  have  been  cast 
up,  and,  in  some  cases,  the  results  have  been  really 
marvelous.  No  one  can  tell  what  the  future  has  in 
store,  but,  compared  with  the  centuries  gone  by,  this 
XIX.  century  of  ours  may  be  termed  the  age  of 
wonders. 

How  has  it  fared  in  thing's  religious?  We  cannot  be 
indifferent  on  a  subject  like  this.  How  stands  the 
Church  as  the  years  go  by?  What  progress  has  she 
made  during1  these  hundred  years?  Let  us  see. 

The  true  progress  of  any  society  is  the  advance  of 
that  society  towards  its  true  end.  All  other  progress, 
however  rapid,  however  brilliant,  however  applauded, 
is  only  retrogression.  In  an  interesting  discourse  on 
this  subject,  delivered  some  years  ago,  Mgr.  O'Neill, 
O.S.B.,  the  venerable  Bishop  of  Port  Louis,  lays  down 
the  following  rule  to  measure  the  progress  of  the 
Church,  and  this  rule  will  serve  as  well  to-day  as  when 
it  was  first  offered. 

'"Go,  teach  all  nations,'  was  the  commission  given 
the  Apostles  and  their  successors  by  their  Divine 
Master,  and  this  was  the  end  for  which  the  Church 
was  instituted. 

"Now,  this  teaching  of  the  Church  is  not  something 
purely  theological,  speculative  like  that  of  a  school  of 
philosophy,  it  is  essentially  practical,  and  to  fulfill  her 
end  the  influence  of  her  doctrine  should  be  formed  not 
in  the  mind  only  but  in  the  heart,  the  life,  the  morals 
of  her  disciples." 

This  is  the  nineteenth  century.  The  nineteenth 
century  of  what?  Of  Christ  and  of  his  Church.  The 


180  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

progress  of  that  church  through  all  these  years  has 
not  been  the  triumphant  march  of  an  Alexander  or 
a  Caesar.  She  has  gained  magnificent  victories  it  is 
true,  but  she  has,  too,  borne  defeat,  suffered  defec- 
tion and  loss.  See  her  condition  at  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century.  In  the  most  Catholic  country  of  the 
world  her  temples  were  profaned,  her  priests  mas- 
sacred, or  driven  into  exile,  and  the  Pope  dying  a 
prisoner.  It  was  only  by  the  protection  of  two  non- 
Catholic  powers,  England  and  Russia,  that  the  Cardi- 
nals ^ould  assemble  at  Venice  to  elect  his  successor. 
In  Protestant  countries  the  Catholic  faith  was  only 
a  spark  covered  with  ashes.  In  Africa,  Asia,  and 
America  was  here  and  there  a  mission,  a  few 
bishops  and  a  clergy,  often  indifferent  and  sometimes 
unworthy.  The  worldly-wise  observer  would  say, 
surely  the  end  is  at  hand.  "But  the  end  was  not 
yet,"  says  Macauley.  "Again  doomed  to  death,  the 
milk-white  hind  was  still  fated  not  to  die.  Even 
before  the  funeral  rights  had  been  performed  over 
the  ashes  of  Pius  VI.,  a  great  reaction  had  com- 
menced. Anarchy  had  its  day.  A  new  order  of  things 
rose  out  of  the  confusion, —  new  dynasties,  new  laws, 
new  titles,  and  amidst  them  emerged  the  ancient 
religion. 

In  1800,  Australia  counted  only  two  priests  and 
New  Zealand  only  one;  to-day  in  that  province  there 
are  thirty-four  bishops  and  archbishops.  In  1800 
India  had  within  her  borders  four  or  five  Portuguese 
bishops  and  the  same  number  of  apostolic  vicars; 
to-day,  without  including  the  heirarchy  of  Goa,  there 
are  seven  archbishops,  seventeen  bishops,  and  four 
apostolic  prefects.  Six  vicars  on  the  peninsula  of 
Indo-China  have  been  increased  to  fifteen.  Instead 
of  eleven  in  China  there  are  now  thirty-six,  and 
Japan  that  had  none  has  now  one  archbishop  and 
three  bishops. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  181 

At  the  close  of  the  last  century,  here  in  our  own 
country  there  was  one  bishop,  Bishop  Carroll  of 
Baltimore.  To-day  we  number  nine  million  Catholics 
with  fourteen  archbishops  and  seventy-five  bishops. 
Canada  at  that  time  had  one  bishop  at  Quebec;  in 
the  same  territory  to-day  there  are  seven  archbishops 
and  twenty-eight  bishops. 

But  why  enumerate  all  these  in  detail,  enough 
to  state  that  during-  this  hundred  years  the  church 
has  created  more  than  two-hundred  and  fifty  dioceses, 
vicariates,  and  prefectures  apostolic,  each  one  having 
its  clergy,  schools,  orphanages,  and  the  rest.  Surely 
this  is  progress. 

In  the  intellectual  order  the  beginning  of  the  cen- 
tury was  marked  by  a  conflict  between  faith  and  the 
so-called  science  of  the  time.  But  it  was  "the  little 
science,"  the  dangerous  thing  of  which  Bacon  warned 
us  as  leading  away  from  God.  The  increase  of  know- 
ledge and  the  better  understanding  of  the  laws  of 
Nature  show  there  is  and  can  be  no  real  conflict  be- 
tween science  and  religion,  for  the  same  "God  who 
gave  us  the  Bible  wrote  the  illuminated  manuscript 
of  the  sky."  The  discoveries  in  Egypt  and  Assyria, 
hailed  with  such  acclamation  by  the  enemies  of  the 
Church,  have  only  added  to  and  strengthened  her  posi- 
tion with  regard  to  Revelation.  A  deeper  and  impartial 
study  of  profane  history  of  such  stormy  times  as  that 
of  the  "Reformation,"  the  Reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  and 
the  Spanish  Inquisition,  has  deprived  the  bigot  of  his 
stock  in  trade  of  abuse  and  calumny,  and  redounded 
to  the  credit  of  the  Church.  In  no  place  is  this  pro- 
gress of  the  Church  more  marked  than  in  the  standard 
books  of  reference  where  a  fair  and  impartial  hearing 
is  given  her,  which  was  refused  in  days  gone  by. 

Her  sway  on  the  hearts  of  men  was  never  greater 
than  it  is  to-day.  What  institution  in  the  world  is  so 


182  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

admired  for  works  of  mercy  and  of  charity?  Her 
hospitals,  her  orphanages,  her  houses  of  refuge,  re- 
place the  poor-house  and  the  prison.  No  century  of 
the  Church's  history  has  been  more  prolific  of  foun- 
dations of  societies  and  congregations.  The  Little 
Sisters  of  the  Poor,  the  Society  of  the  Propaganda, 
the  Holy  Childhood,  the  Marist  Fathers,  the  Oblates 
of  Mary,  the  Congregation  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the 
White  Fathers  of  Cardinal  Lavigerie,  are  only  a  few 
stars  in  the  great  constellation  that  has  arisen. 

It  is  not  for  glorification  that  we  cite  these  facts, 
it  is  for  encouragement.  We  know  that  the  Church 
must  ever  do  battle,  but  it  is  better  to  fight  with  con- 
fidence. Where  can  we  find  a  greater  source  of  con- 
fidence than  in  this  visible  protection  and  aid  of  the 
Most  High,  and  the  assurance  of  our  Saviour,  "Behold 
I  am  with  you  all  days,  even  to  the  consummation  of 
the  world."  

PHILANTHROPY   NOT   RELIGION. 

There  is  a  marked  tendency  these  times  to  substi- 
tute philanthropy  for  religious  faith,  and  to  think  that 
because  one  is  charitable  towards  the  poor  and  unfor- 
tunate, he  thereby  acquits  himself  of  all  his  obligations 
toward  God.  This  great  care  and  solicitude  for  the 
mere  temporal  well-being  of  our  kind  is  often  the  dis- 
tinguishing mark  of  the  utter  loss  of  faith.  The 
greatest  infidels  have  preached  humanity  loudest.  And 
logically  it  should  be  so.  For  if  this  life  is  all  and 
death  is  the  end  of  us,  it  ought  to  be  our  greatest 
concern  to  free  that  life  from  as  many  ills  as 
possible,  and  to  render  the  present  existence  as  agree- 
able as  we  can.  Such,  however,  is  not  the  teaching 
of  Christianity ;  life  is  only  a  preparation  and  death 
the  beginning  of  an  eternal  existence.  Suffering  is 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  183 

a  means  by  which  our  souls  may  be  purified  and 
strengthened  in  their  union  with  God,  and  far  from 
being-  an  unmixed  evil,  as  it  is  often  esteemed  by  the 
world,  it  may  become  one  of  our  greatest  aids  to  sal- 
vation. St.  Paul  tells  us  how  "  tribulation  worketh 
patience,  and  patience  trial,  and  trial  hope,  and  hope 
confoundeth  not."  And  he  adds  that  the  tribulations 
of  this  world  are  not  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
to  come.  Looked  at  in  this  light,  poverty,  suffering-, 
and  misfortune  are  by  no  means  as  unbearable  as  peo- 
ple without  faith  imagine,  and  beautiful  examples  of 
Christian  patience,  fortitude,  resignation  may  be  met 
with  every  day.  Of  course  it  is  praiseworthy  to  try 
to  lessen  the  ills  of  poor  human  nature,  but  that  is 
on  account  of  our  weakness.  It  is  a  higher  and  a  holier 
thing  to  suffer  them  with  patience  for  our  soul's  and 
God's  sake.  When  will  people  learn  that  true  charity 
does  not  consist  in  filling  the  purse  of  the  poor, 
while  their  souls  are  left  starved  and  shriveled  ?  Only 
when  they  realize  the  words  of  our  Saviour,  "Not  by 
bread  alone  doth  man  live,  but  in  every  word  that  pro- 
ceedeth  from  the  mouth  of  God." 


THE  HOLY  HOUR. 

The  devotion  of  the  Holy  Hour  is  one  that  should 
appeal  to  all  Catholics.  It  consists  in  giving  one  hour 
of  prayer  and  adoration  to  Jesus  in  the  Blessed 
Eucharist.  This  hour  should  be  spent  in  the  church, 
if  possible,  and  before  our  Blessed  Lord  in  the  tab- 
ernacle. It  should  be  made  regularly  once  each  week 
or,  at  least,  once  each  month.  It  can  be  made  in 
common  as  is  done  in  certain  parishes  where  this 
devotion  is  regularly  established.  In  such  case  some 
day  and  hour  is  appointed  by  the  pastor ;  the  Blessed 
Sacrament  is  exposed  upon  the  altar,  hymns  are  sung, 


184  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

prayers  recited,  and  the  hour  closes  with  Benedic- 
tion. This  is,  indeed,  a  wholesome  practice  in  any 
parish,  and  cannot  fail  to  bring  the  blessing*  of  God 
upon  all  its  members.  Where  such  public  devotion 
does  not  prevail,  the  individual  can  gain  for  himself 
abundant  graces  by  following  privately  the  simple 
rules  prescribed. 

One  hour's  visit  to  the  church  may  seem  long.  But 
think!  an  hour's  visit  to  a  friend  would  seem  short, 
indeed,  and  what  friend  have  we  like  Jesus?  How 
many  hours  we  spend  in  useless,  simple  frivolity  and 
deem  them  only  too  short.  The  days,  the  weeks, 
and  the  months  go  by  but  we  never  visit  Jesus  in 
the  house  where  He  has  chosen  to  reside  as  the  self- 
made  prisoner  of  love  in  the  tabernacle.  It  is  true 
we  come  on  Sundays  and  spend  an  hour  or  the  part 
of  an  hour  assisting  at  Holy  Mass,  but  is  it  not  rather 
from  constraint,  from  fear  of  the  mortal  sin  of  remain- 
ing away,  than  from  the  sweet  compulsion  of  affection 
that  should  draw  us  to  His  divine  presence?  Day 
after  day  He  is  in  the  church  alone;  the  door  stands 
open  inviting  the  passers-by,  and  from  out  the  taber* 
nacle  Our  Saviour  speaks:  "Come  to  me  all  ye  who 
labor  and  are  heavily  burdened  and  I  will  refresh  you." 
Yet  we  pass  heedlessly  on.  It  does  not  speak  well 
for  our  faith  to  leave  Him  thus  alone,  and  it  ill  requites 
His  love  to  pay  no  attention  to  His  invitation. 

One  hour  with  Jesus  will  make  the  whole  day  dif- 
ferent, it  will  make  the  whole  week  and  month  better. 
Those  who  knew  the  Apostles  saw  a  change  come 
over  them  and  accounted  for  it  saying:  "They  have 
been  with  Jesus."  We  have  all  of  us  felt  the  influ- 
ence of  the  presence  of  some  person.  While  with 
him  we  dared  not  entertain  an  unworthy  thought, 
much  less  say  an  unbecoming  word  or  do  an  unseemly 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  185 

action.  The  influence  of  even  that  human  presence 
has  been  a  source  of  joy  and  comfort  and  strength 
for  days  and  weeks  tog-ether.  What,  then,  cannot 
this  association  with  Jesus  do  for  us,  if  entered  into 
with  the  spirit  of  love  and  faith  ?  Do  we  not  labor 
and  often  fruitlessly?  Are  we  not  heavily  burdened 
with  the  weight  of  sin  and  sorrow,  grief,  and  disap- 
pointment, and  where  can  we  find  a  counselor  and 
comforter  like  Jesus?  "  Who  for  us  men,  and  for  our 
salvation,  came  down  from  Heaven,  *  *  *  *  and 
was  made  man?" 

This  devotion  of  the  Holy  Hour  and  these  visits 
to  Jesus  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament  are  not  intended 
for  the  pious  and  devout  only.  They  perhaps  need 
it  least.  It  is  the  common,  every  day  Christian  who 
needs  it  most.  We  recall  with  the  greatest  satisfac- 
tion the  time  of  the  Jubilee  visits,  when  the  touching 
custom  of  Catholic  lands  could  be  seen  as  described 
by  Longfellow: 

"Oft  have  I  seen  at  some  cathedral  door 
A  laborer,  pausing-  in  the  dust  and  heat, 
Lay  down  his  burden,  and  with  reverent  feet 

Enter,  and  cross  himself,  and  on  the  floor 

Kneel  to  repeat  his  paternoster  o'er." 

And  such  we  should  see  every  day.  An  hour  stolen 
from  the  busy,  toilsome  day  for  the  working  man  or 
woman,  and  spent  in  the  quiet  holy  atmosphere  of  the 
church  will  bring  rest  and  refreshment,  peace,  and 
light.  It  will  above  all  bring  us  in  closer  union  with 
Jesus  Christ.  It  will  increase  our  love  for  the  Blessed 
Eucharist ;  it  will  give  us  a  more  ardent  desire  for 
the  Bread  of  Angels;  it  will  help  us  to  receive  more 
and  more  worthily  this  food  of  our  souls,  in  the  strength 
of  which  we  can,  like  the  prophet  Elias,  reach  at  last 
the  mountain  of  God. 


186  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

THANKSGIVING. 

The  duty  of  giving-  thanks  to  God  is  not  one  that 
was  invented  by  the  civil  authorities,  but  is  an  obli- 
gation imposed  upon  us  by  the  natural  law.  How- 
ever, it  is  well  that  this  duty  be  brought  before  us  in 
a  special  manner  for  it  is  one  that  is  easily  overlooked 
or  neglected.  In  time  of  distress  and  trouble  we  need 
not  be  encouraged  to  look  to  God  for  help;  we  are 
ready  indeed  to  implore  His  aid  and  to  storm  Heaven 
with  our  importunities.  But  when  the  need  is  passed, 
and  when  we  have  all  our  soul  desires,  we  are  very 
apt  to  take  things  as  a  matter  of  course  and  never  so 
much  as  thank  God  for  all  His  bounty  lavished  upon 
us.  Ingratitude  among  men  is  one  of  the  unforgiven 
sins.  It  displeases  God  exceedingly.  It  was  the  in- 
gratitude of  the  Jews  that  called  forth  His  severest 
denunciations.  Our  Saviour  grieved  that  of  the  ten 
lepers  cured  by  Him  only  one  was  found  to  return 
to  give  thanks  for  the  benefit  received.  St.  Paul 
repeats,  time  and  again,  that  "we  should  give  thanks 
in  all  things,  for  this  is  the  will  of  God,"  and  Sunday 
after  Sunday  the  Church  admonishes  us  in  the  pre- 
face of  the  Mass,  "semper  et  ubique  gratias  agere," 
"to  give  thanks  to  God  always  and  in  every  place." 

Why  does  God  require  our  thanks?  Is  He  not 
infinitely  perfect,  and  supremely  happy,  and  independ- 
ent of  any  exterior  influence?  Yes,  but  it  has  pleased 
God  to  condescend  to  be  considered  as  a  kind  and 
loving  Father,  and  as  no  grief  is  so  poignant  to  an 
earthly  parent  as  the  ingratitude  of  his  children,  so, 
too,  does  it  affect  the  heart  of  our  Father  who  is  in 
Heaven. 

Have  we  not  many  reasons  to  thank  God  for  the 
year  that  has  passed  ?  As  a  nation  we  have  been 
spared  many  ills.  No  war,  no  pestilence,  no  great 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  187 

calamity  has  visited  us.  At  our  very  gates  Mount 
Pelee  wrought  a  havoc  which  has  few  parallels  in 
the  world's  history.  England  closed  a  disastrous 
war;  Prance  is  persecuting-  the  Church.  We  have 
kept  faith  with  Cuba  and  given  her  liberty,  and  the 
troubles  in  the  Philippines  seem  on  the  road  to  a  fair 
settlement.  But  for  the  great  coal  strike,  now  hap- 
pily ended,  there  have  been  no  serious  labor  troubles, 
and  the  business  condition  of  the  country  is  good. 
For  all  this  we  have  reason  to  be  grateful  to  God  and 
should  thank  Him  from  the  bottom  of  our  hearts. 

As  individuals  we  have  all  of  us  many  reasons  to 
give  thanks  to  God.  We  should  thank  Him  for  having 
spared  us  so  many  ills  of  soul  and  body  that  afflict 
others,  for  the  innumerable  blessings  of  creation 
which  minister  to  our  needs  and  pleasure,  for  the  sun 
and  the  moon  and  the  stars  which  He  has  hung  up 
in  the  Heavens  to  give  us  light  and  heat ;  for  the  ani- 
mals, the  plants,  the  trees,  the  flowers,  the  air,  the 
water,  the  fire.  We  should  thank  God  for  the  care 
of  His  watchful  Providence,  directing  the  course  of 
the  planets,  disposing  the  seasons,  sending  the  rain 
and  the  snow  when  needed  with  the  same  loving  care 
with  which  He  watches  over  us  waking  or  sleeping. 
These  are  the  blessings  of  God  in  the  natural  order. 
How  much  more  cause  have  we  to  thank  Him  for 
His  goodness  in  the  supernatural  order?  For  us  God, 
the  Second  Person  of  the  Blessed  Trinity,  became 
man  and  died  on  the  cross.  For  us  He  established 
a  Church  and  left  us  seven  sacraments  for  all  the 
needs  of  our  soul.  For  us  He  abides  in  the  Blessed 
Eucharist  and  comes  to  us  bodily  in  Holy  Commun- 
ion. How  can  we  ever  sufficiently  thank  Him  for  all 
these? 

Has  misfortune,  or  loss,  or  sickness  been  your  por- 
tion during  the  year  that  has  passed  ?  No  matter, 


188  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

you  have  still  many  reasons  to  thank  God.  Even 
from  the  depths  of  your  misery  like  Holy  Job  you  can 
say:  "Naked  came  I  out  of  mother's  womb  and 
naked  shall  I  return  thither;  the  Lord  gave  and  the 
Lord  hath  taken  away ;  as  it  has  pleased  the  Lord  so 
be  it  done;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord."  You 
can  thank  God  that  you  still  live,  that  you  have  a 
man's  heart  in  your  breast,  a  brain  to  think  with, 
and  hands,  if  not  to  work  with,  at  least  to  be  raised 
in  supplication  and  prayer.  Your  very  misfortunes, 
if  properly  prized,  will  be  a  source  of  blessings  for 
you.  Ben  Franklin  was  once  asked  what  was  his 
favorite  passage  in  Holy  Scripture.  Without  hesita- 
tion he  replied:  '"Though  the  fig  tree  shall  not  blos- 
som and  there  shall  be  no  spring  in  the  vines ;  the 
labor  of  the  olive  tree  shall  fail  and  the  fields  shall 
yield  no  fruit ;  the  flocks  shall  be  cut  off  from  the 
fold  and  there  shall  be  no  herds  in  the  stalls ;  yet  I 
will  rejoice  in  the  Lord  and  I  will  joy  in  God  my 
Jesus."  These  are  the  sentiments  of  no  paltry  poli- 
tician or  penny-wise  philosopher,  but  of  a  statesman 
and  a  Christian,  and  may  well  serve  for  a  text  on  a 
Thanksgiving  Day. 


A  WORD  TO  OUR   SUMMER   VISITORS. 

Summer  brings  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of 
visitors  to  New  Hampshire.  Of  these  many  are  Cath- 
olics. We  are  glad  they  come  and  we  try  to  provide 
for  them  during  their  stay  and  furnish  them  with  the 
opportunity  of  practising  their  religion,  if  not  with 
all  the  facilities  and  comforts  of  home,  at  least  wifh 
the  best  our  resources  allow.  If  we  venture  a  little 
word  of  instruction  and  advice  to  these,  our  guests,  it 
is  not  in  a  spirit  of  faultfinding  and  criticism,  but  in 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  189 

all  charity,  that  they  may  profit  the  more  by  their 
stay  among1  us.  In  nearly  all  of  our  summering-  resorts 
the  holy  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  is  offered  on  Sundays. 
It  is  not  always  possible  that  the  place  of  Mass  should 
be  at  your  very  door.  The  convenience  of  the  greatest 
number  is  considered  and  the  few  may  have  to  exert 
themselves  to  assist.  Our  first  advice  would  be  this  : 
make  that  effort. 

During  the  week  you  tramp  or  drive  miles  for 
pleasure ;  can  you  in  conscience  refuse  to  do  as  much 
to  fulfill  your  duty  of  hearing-  Mass  on  Sunday?  Nor 
are  you  at  liberty  to  sequester  yourself  so  far  from 
a  church  that  you  cannot  hear  Mass.  The  Church's 
precept  binds  you  in  the  country  as  well  as  in  the 
city,  in  summer  as  in  winter,  and  can  be  set  aside 
only  for  grave  reasons.  Because  you  like  a  place  and 
find  it  nice  and  quiet,  or  the  company  congenial,  is 
not  sufficient  reason  to  excuse  you  from  sin.  Then, 
there  is  the  influence  of  your  example.  Catholics  are 
known  to  be  obliged  to  assist  at  Mass  on  Sundays. 
If  you  stay  at  home  and  are  ready  to  take  any  trivial 
excuse  to  exempt  yourself,  will  not  your  non-Catholic 
friends  have  reason  to  think  that  you  care  little  for 
the  laws  of  your  Church? 

Another  source  of  bad  example  is  Friday  meat- 
eating.  This  is  one  of  the  meanest  kinds  of  apostasy. 
Is  it  for  the  miserable  satisfaction  of  one's  gullet? 
Is  it  from  human  respect  and  a  fear  of  being  remarked 
that  you  take  what  is  offered  you  without  a  word? 
Either  case  is  unworthy  of  you.  You  pay  your  board 
and  have  a  right  to  be  suited.  Insist  then  on  a  sub- 
stitute for  meat  for  your  Friday  meals.  Instead  of 
thinking  the  less  of  you  for  your  strict  observance, 
your  friends  will  think  the  more  of  you.  And  remem- 
ber that,  in  the  estimation  of  all  men,  a  Friday  meat- 
eating  Catholic  is  put  into  the  same  class  with  a 
pork-eating  Jew. 


190  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

There  is  another  precept  of  the  Church  which 
commands  you  to  help  in  the  support  of  your  pastor, 
and  your  pastor  here  means  the  priest  who  serves 
your  present  needs.  You  do  not  realize  it  perhaps, 
but  it  is  none  the  less  true,  that  the  priest  who  attends 
these  summer  missions  does  so  at  a  great  inconven- 
ience and  sacrifice.  He  often  has  many  missions  to 
attend  and  is  obliged  to  make  long-  drives  between 
Masses.  He  has  nearly  always  heavy  debts  and  few 
people  to  meet  the  demands.  During  the  long  winter 
months,  when  you  are  enjoying  the  comforts  of  the 
city,  he  is  still  going  his  ceaseless  rounds  over  the 
snow  of  the  mountains,  attending  the  wants  of  his 
scattered  flock,  and  a  little  help  now  will  do  much 
to  lighten  his  burden.  There  are  many  summer 
visitors  who  are  lavish  in  spending  money  for  style 
and  frivolity  but  who  have  nothing  to  give  for  the 
support  of  God's  church  and  priest.  There  are 
some  whose  Sunday's  offering  to  the  priest  is  less 
then  they  give  to  the  waiter  who  serves  their  dinner. 
This  is  exceedingly  shameful,  though  more  often  the 
result  of  thoughtlessness  than  an  intention  of  being 
small.  Be  generous,  then,  as  your  means  will  allow 
and  the  Lord  will  amply  reward  you. 

Stand  always  for  what  you  are.  Be  Catholics 
and  be  known  as  such.  There  are  silly  women  and 
sillier  men  who  seem  flattered  to  be  mistaken  for 
something  else.  If  you  are  a  Christian  lady  or  gen- 
tleman you  need  not  make  excuses  for  your  faith. 
If  the  Church  has  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  you, 
neither  will  you  have  any  reason  to  be  ashamed  of 
3Tour  Church.  During  these  summer  months  you  will 
make  many  new  friends  and  acquaintances.  Among 
them  are  anxious  inquiring  souls  who,  if  they  know 
you  are  a  Catholic  and  esteem  your  intelligence,  will 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  191 

be  desirous  to  learn  of  the  Church  and  her  doctrines. 
Help  these  in  all  charity  and,  under  God,  you  may 
be  the  means  of  saving  their  souls. 

The  time  of  vacation  is  a  time  of  relaxation,  but  it 
was  never  intended  to  be  so  in  the  moral  order. 
The  Ten  Commandments  of  God  and  the  Six  Com- 
mandments of  the  Church  are  as  binding"  in  summer 
as  at  any  other  time  of  the  year,  though  many 
people  seem  to  forget  that  fact.  While  everybody 
else  is  idle  or  indolent  the  Devil  is  more  active  than 
ever.  If  he  takes  a  vacation  at  all,  it  is  not  in  the 
summer  time.  Perhaps  it  is  because  he  is  accus- 
tomed to  warm  weather  and  works  best  in  it. 


PEACE    CONFERENCE. 

The  war  just  past,  with  all  its  attendant  anxiety 
and  loss  of  life,  has  given  us  more  than  ever  an  in- 
terest in  the  conference  held  at  The  Hague,  where 
the  nations  of  the  world  will  consider  the  proposal  of 
the  Czar  to  reach  some  mode  of  settling  their  differ- 
ences without  resort  to  arms.  Yet  our  experience 
was  far  from  adequate  to  give  us  a  complete  idea  of 
all  the  miseries  European  nations  feel  from  the  ex- 
isting conditions  of  affairs.  With  us  the  issue  of  the 
war  was  never  for  a  moment  in  doubt;  no  prescrip- 
tion was  needed ;  we  had  unbounded  resources  at 
command  ;  a  few  months,  and  it  all  ended  in  a 
glorious  victory. 

It  is  not  so,  however,  with  the  nations  of  Europe. 
These  have  for  years  maintained  vast  armies  and 
navies  and  for  the  most  part  continually  recruit  them 
by  the  forced  military  service  of  their  young  men. 
To  meet  these  needs  the  resources  of  the  govern- 
ment are  taxed  to  the  extreme.  Each  nation  watches 


192  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

the  other  with  jealous  vigilance,  and  any  day  may 
see  begun  a  struggle  that  will  only  end  in  the 
annihilation  of  one  or  another.  The  evils  resulting 
from  this  condition  are  innumerable.  Here  are  mil- 
lions of  men  daily  training  for  each  other's  destruc- 
tion ;  here  are  fostered  a  lust  for  conquest,  an  utter 
disregard  for  the  rights  of  the  weaker,  an  insatiable 
ambition.  The  young  men  of  the  country  are  taken 
from  all  the  walks  of  life,  from  the  school,  from  the 
home,  from  the  workshop,  from  farms  and  villages, 
often  sent  to  do  service  in  foreign  lands,  and  the 
few  years  training  to  which  they  are  subjected,  the 
evil  influences  to  which  they  are  exposed  ruin  many, 
unfit  others  for  the  place  in  life  they  should  fill,  and 
delay  for  all  that  period  when  they  should  take  up 
the  responsibilities  of  home  and  family.  Every 
country  recognizes  the  consequences  of  such  a  sys- 
tem, yet  each  maintains  it  from  absolute  self-defence. 

The  relief  the  Czar  proposes  would  be  welcome 
indeed,  but  we  are  too  far  from  the  millenium  to 
hope  for  its  realization.  The  good-will,  however,  is 
commendable,  and,  perhaps,  some  benefit  may  result. 

The  attitude  of  Italy  in  all  this  matter  is  most  in- 
teresting. There  is  no  nation  in  Europe  that  would 
hail  disarmament  with  greater  joy.  To  keep  up 
appearance  among  the  Powers  means  bankruptcy  for 
her.  Founded  upon  fraud  and  force,  she  has  never 
risen  above  those  "principles,"  and  now  suing  for 
peace,  she  declares  war  upon  the  helpless  "Old  Man 
of  the  Vatican,"  and  refuses  to  attend  the  confer- 
ences if  his  representatives  accept  the  invitation  of 
Russia.  Such  are  her  hypocritical  pretentions  1 

Was  there  ever  in  this  world  a  power  for  peace  as 
the  Vicar  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  the  Head  of  the 
Christian  Church  who  rules  at  Rome?  Was  there 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  193 

ever  a  voice  that  spoke  so  often  to  quell  strife  and 
said  as  did  his  Divine  Master,  "Peace  be  still"?  And 
is  there  any  sovereign  on  earth  to-day,  though  backed 
by  an  army  of  millions,  whose  influence  for  peace  is 
more  potent  than  his?  Under  such  a  gratuitous  in- 
sult the  noble  attitude  of  the  Pope  cannot  but  be 
admired  by  the  world,  while  Italy's  policy  only  adds 
another  to  her  already  long  list  of  infamies. 

Even  the  Pagan  would  think  that  when  the  liont 
the  bear,  the  eagle  and  the  dragon  meet  to  arrange 
for  terms  of  peace  there  might  be  found  a  place  for 
the  dove.  

CATHOLIC    BEQUESTS. 

There  is  scarcely  a  day  passes  but  we  read  of 
some  magnificent  bequests  to  institutions  of  charity, 
learning,  or  religion,  but  so  rarely  are  such  dona- 
tions destined  for  Catholic  purposes  that  when  they 
do  occur  we  are  struck  with  wonder  and  admira- 
tion. Of  course  an  excuse  is  always  handy  :  "Our 
people  are  poor,  they  have  not  the  means,  they  give 
during  life  and  do  not  wait  until  they  can  no  longer 
use  or  enjoy  wealth,"  etc.  Yet  when  all  is  said  this 
is  far  from  sufficient  to  excuse  so  universal  a  neglect 
as  really  exists,  and  it  speaks  badly  for  our  faith 
and  zeal. 

Again  Catholics  are  accustomed  to  point  with  pride 
to  their  magnificent  churches,  schools,  orphanages, 
hospitals,  and  claim  these  as  a  testimony  to  their 
generosity  and  devotedness.  But  again  it  happens 
that  those  who  boast  the  loudest  have  the  least  cause 
to  congratulate  themselves.  These  institutions  are, 
for  the  most  part,  built  and  supported  by  the  offer- 
ings of  the  poor,  the  working-man,  the  mill-girl,  and 
are  maintained  only  by  the  rigorous  economy  and 


194  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

self-sacrifice  of  those  in  charge  of  the  work.  The 
well-to-do  and  the  rich  are  the  first  to  complain  of 
the  demands  of  charity  and  religion. 

With  the  poor  a  dollar  is  esteemed  for  what  it  can 
buy  of  food  or  clothes  or  shelter,  and  every  dollar 
above  the  necessary  is  their  surplus,  ready  to  be 
shared  with  the  needy.  Not  so,  however,  with  the 
rich.  To  them  a  dollar  represents  not  what  it  can 
"buy"  but  what  it  can  "do,"  and  every  dollar  in  their 
possession,  even  to  the  millions,  is  turned  over  and 
over  and  made  to  bring  in  its  five  or  ten  per  cent, 
and  the  dollar  that  does  not  is  counted  lost.  Accus- 
tomed to  reckon  g-ain  only  from  a  ledger  account 
they  lose  sight  altogether  of  reward  promised  by 
God  to  charity  done  in  His  name.  They  forget  that 
"To  whom  much  has  been  given  from  him  much 
shall  be  required,"  that  they  are  only  stewards  of 
these  treasures  from  whom  one  day  an  account  will  be 
demanded. 

In  the  old  law  God  claimed  one  tenth  of  every 
man's  earthly  possessions,  and  although  there  is  no 
formal  decree  in  the  new  law  to  that  effect,  no  one 
would  say  such  a  demand  is  exorbitant. 

Do  Catholics  give  God  one  tenth  of  their  income? 
Do  they  give  one  twentieth  or  one  hundredth  part? 
They  certainly  do  not.  "Thou  art  my  God  for  tbou 
hast  no  need  of  my  goods,"  say  they  in  a  sense  that 
was  never  intended  by  the  prophet. 

Many  spare  and  save,  heap  and  hoard,  and  to  what 
end?  To  leave  to  others  who  will  scarce  thank  them 
for  the  gift,  who  will  squander  their  hard  earnings, 
nor  say  even  a  prayer  for  the  repose  of  their  soul. 

What  a  consolation  on  the  other  hand  it  must  be 
to  feel  in  leaving  this  world  that  the  good  you  have 
done  will  live  after  you,  that  the  prayers  of  a  grate- 


OF  BISHOP  DEL  ANY  195 

ful  church  will  follow  you,  that  the  blessing's  of  the 
orphan  and  widow  will  accompany  you  to  the  throne 
of  grace. 

This  is  to  make  friends  of  the  mammon  of  iniquity, 
and  when  all  else  shall  fail  they  will  receive  you  into 
everlasting1  dwellings. 

Remember  the  reproach,  "I  was  hungry  and  you 
gave  Me  not  to  eat,  I  was  thirsty  and  you  gave  Me 
not  to  drink,  naked,  and  you  clothed  Me  not."  With 
such  a  blessing  or  such  a  curse  within  our  reach  we 
can  surely  conclude  with  Cardinal  Manning,  "The 
will  that  has  not  God  in  it  is  a  bad  will." 


IS   THE   DEVOTION   TO  THE   BLESSED  VIRGIN   ON  THE  DECLINE? 

Looking  backward  ten  or  twenty  years  one  can- 
not help  but  admit  with  sorrow  that  the  devotion  to 
the  Blessed  Mother  of  God  has,  outwardly,  at  least, 
suffered  a  diminution.  Who  does  not  recall  with  tender 
emotion  the  touching  devotions  of  the  month  of  May 
in  those  years  past,  the  devotions  of  October,  and  of 
the  different  feasts  of  Our  Lady?  Time  was,  too, 
when  every  church  held  her  shrine  second  in  honor 
only  to  that  which  contained  Our  Blessed  Saviour  under 
the  sacramental  species.  Children  were  consecrated 
to  her  protection  and  dressed  in  her  colors  for  the 
first  seven  years  of  their  lives,  and  their  elders  wore 
her  livery  of  the  scapular  with  due  appreciation. 

We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  all  these  things  have 
passed  away,  they  are  still  found  in  part  and  in  places. 
In  theory,  her  place  in  our  devotion  is  the  same  as 
ever,  but,  practically  she  is  not  honored  as  her  sublime 
position  and  office  demand,  or  as  the  Church  intended 
she  should  be. 


196  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

As  to  the  cause  we  do  not  pretend  to  say.  Some- 
times it  is  attributed  to  the  many  other  devotions  that 
have  come  recently  into  common  practice.  But  such 
can  hardly  be  the  case,  or,  at  least,  should  not  be  the 
case.  These  devotions,  approved  by  the  Church,  have 
their  place  and  their  order,  and  if  carried  out  according 
to  the  intention  of  the  Church  ought  to  increase  rather 
than  diminish  the  honor  due  to  the  Mother  of  Our 
Saviour  and  the  Queen  of  all  Saints.  The  mind  of 
the  Church  is  readily  seen  in  the  feasts  she  appoints  to 
honor  the  Blessed  Virgin.  Two  whole  months,  May  and 
October,  are  consecrated  to  her,  and  one  day  in  each 
week.  Three  times  a  day  in  the  prayer  of  the  Angelus 
we  invoke  her  aid,  to  say  nothing  of  the  many  feasts 
which  mark  the  events  of  her  life  from  her  Immaculate 
Conception  to  her  glorious  Assumption.  No  such  honor 
is  given  to  any  other  creature  of  God. 

It  can  hardly  be  the  indifference  of  the  people,  for, 
if  asked,  they  will  readily  acknowledge  that  there  is 
no  one  in  heaven  above  or  on  the  earth  beneath,  save 
God  alone,  on  whose  help  and  protection  they  rely  more 
than  that  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary. 

It  can  hardly  be  the  neglect  of  the  clergy,  they 
above  all  others  know  her  rightful  place  and  the 
honors  due  her;  she  is  the  queen  of  the  clergy, 
Regina  Clert,  and  none,  perhaps  grieve  more  at  this 
apparent  neglect  of  her  devotions  than  do  they. 

Whatever  the  cause  may  be  the  fact  is  there. 
Such  a  condition  is  as  deplorable  as  it  is  dangerous 
for  the  individual  or  the  community,  for  when  the 
sweet  influence  of  Mary  does  not  enter  our  daily  life, 
faith  and  morals  must  surely  suffer.  On  each  and 
every  one  of  us,  priests  and  people,  depends  the 
remedy.  Let  us  then  be  faithful  to  our  daily  devo- 
tions and  practices  in  honor  of  the  Blessed  Mother 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  197 

of  God,  observe  her  festivals  with  all  becoming-  cere- 
mony, instil  into  the  hearts  of  our  little  ones  love 
and  confidence  in  her  protection  and  testify  to  the 
world  our  loyality  to  "our  hope,  our  refuge  and  our 
strength." 

Every  family  should  be  a  "holy  family"  modeled  on 
that  of  Nazareth,  and  would  be,  did  parents  but 
realize  the  sacred  duties  of  their  state  in  life.  The 
Holy  Father  asks  the  members  of  the  League  of  the 
Sacred  Heart  to  pray  during  this  month  for  "the 
family  for  Christ."  Lel^us  enter  heartily  into  the 
spirit  of  that  prayer,  but  practically  make  our  own 
family  what  Christ  would  wish  it  to  be.  Here  is  a 
touching  prayer  by  St.  Hilary  for  his  children  that 
will  serve  Catholic  parents  as  well. 

"  Grant  me,  my  God,  that  I  may  regard  them  as 
your  creatures,  not  mine;  as  your  children,  not  mine; 
grant  that  I  may  always  look  upon  them  not  as  a 
part  of  my  body,  but  as  the  temple  of  Thy  Holy 
Spirit;  grant  that  I  may  never  do  anything  that  would 
cause  them  to  offend  Thee  and  bring  malediction  on 
us  both.  You  blessed  the  little  ones  presented  to  You. 
Put  Your  holy  hands  upon  these,  my  children,  bless 
them,  and  keep  them  forever  thine." 


EASTER. 


"If  you  be  risen  with  Christ,  seek  the  things  that 
are  above  where  Christ  is  sitting  at  the  right  hand 
of  God  ;  mind  the  things  that  are  above,  not  the  things 
that  are  upon  the  earth."  St.  Paul  to  the  Colossians. 

The  lesson  is  old,  yet  as  new  as  Easter,  and  twenty 
centuries  teaching  it  has  not  been  sufficient  to  im- 
press it  on  the  hearts  of  men.  How  does  the  close 
of  Lent  find  you,  still  grovelling,  still  "of  the  earth, 


198  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

earthy,"  with  all  your  thoughts  and  affections  cen- 
tered here  below?  Roll  away  the  stone  from  the  tomb 
of  your  heart.  Rise  as  did  your  Saviour  to  the  newness 
of  life.  

THE   EASTER   PROMISE. 

What  a  glorious  promise  Easter  holds  for  us  all! 
If  Jesus  died  for  us,  He  rose  for  us,  too.  His  resur- 
rection is  a  promise  and  a  type  of  our  own.  Let 
then  the  world  do  its  worst.  What  does  it  matter? 
Suffering,  sorrow,  loss,  poverty,  neglect  and  cold  and 
hunger  may  come  to  us,  but  did  they  not  come  to 
Jesus,  too?  Yet  there  will  be  an  end,  and  a  glorious 
resurrection.  "Oh,  Death,  where  is  thy  sting?  Oh, 
Grave,  where  is  thy  victory?"  Our  bodies  will  moulder 
in  the  grave,  but  our  souls  will  go  into  the  house  of 
their  eternity.  If  we  have  shared  the  chalice  of  His 
salvation  here,  we  can  say  with  all  confidence:  "I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  in  the  last 
day  I  am  to  rise  out  of  the  earth  and  in  my  flesh  I 
shall  see  my  God."  This  is  what  Easter  means  to 
us.  Is  it  any  wonder  then  that  we  should  sing  with 
the  Church,  "This  is  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made. 
Let  us  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it?" 

The  inspiring  lesson  of  faith  and  valor  furnished 
by  the  banner  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  lends  more  than 
a  passing  interest  to  its  history.  There  recently  died 
at  Chagny,  France,  the  rector  of  the  parish  after  forty 
years  of  priesthood,  the  second  son  of  the  Count  of 
Musy.  While  attending  the  seminary  of  Annecy,  pre- 
paring for  Holy  Orders,  the  young  man  lost  his  power 
of  speech.  Later  by  special  favor  he  was  admitted  to 
the  Holy  Priesthood,  notwithstanding  his  infirmity,  but 
shortly  after  lost,  too,  the  use  of  his  eyes.  Again, 
paralysis  afflicted  him,  and  henceforth  he  was  confined 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  199 

to  an  invalid's  chair.  It  was  to  this  poor,  helpless 
creature  that  came  the  thought  during  those  terrible 
days  of  1870  to  save  France  through  recourse  to  the 
Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus.  He  caused  to  be  made  at  Paray 
le-Monial,  a  banner  of  white  silk  on  which  was  em- 
broidered the  emblem  since  so  familiar  to  us  all.  Though 
it  led  as  gallant  a  charge  as  was  ever  made,  it  failed 
in  the  purpose  its  donor  intended,  for  God  had  other 
designs.  What  these  are  we  know  not.  Perhaps 
France's  defeat  was  a  merited  chastisement;  perhaps 
it  is  because  France  was  not  to  be  saved  by  force  of  arms, 
and  they  who  boasted  that  they  "knew  no  God  but 
their  mitrailleuse,"  were  destined  to  learn  how  futile 
the  arms  in  which  they  trusted. 

But  God  rewarded  in  a  most  singular  way  the  poor 
afflicted  priest  whose  confiding  faith  was  placed  in  the 
mercy  of  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus.  On  the  15th  of 
August,  Lady  Day,  Mons.  de  Musy  was  brought  to 
Lourdes  in  company  with  thousands  of  pious  pilgrims, 
to  seek  the  help  of  Our  Lady.  At  the  moment  of  the 
elevation  of  the  Sacred  Host  in  the  Mass,  the  poor 
paralytic  felt  his  body  revive,  his  eyes  were  opened 
and  his  whole  being  strengthened.  He  left  his  roll- 
chair  and  when  the  faithful  raised  their  eyes  from 
adoration  they  saw  him  kneeling  in  their  midst. 

For  many  years  after  Rev.  Fr.  de  Musy  ministered 
to  a  large  and  devoted  parish,  a  living  wonder  more 
eloquent  than  words. 

Over  the  city  of  Paris  has  since  been  raised  the 
beautiful  basilica  of  the  Sacred  Heart.  It  is  a  church 
of  expiation  and  intended  by  millions  of  faithful  French- 
men who  contributed  for  it  as  a  work  of  national  re- 
paration for  the  national  sin  of  an  outraged  religion. 
Never  more  than  at  present  does  France  need  this 
public  acknowledgment  of  her  crime  and  her  sorrow. 


200  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

But  may  her  reparation  through  the  Sacred  Heart  of 
Jesus  soon  take  the  blush  of  shame  from  the  face  of 
the  "Eldest  Daughter  of  the  Church." 


A   SCIENCE  THAT   PAYS. 

The  recent  trial  of  our  neighbor,  Mrs.  Eddy,  head 
of  the  latest  religion  fad,  Christian  Science,  so-called, 
brought  out  one  fact  at  least.  Of  whatever  other  folly 
this  good  lady  be  guilty,  and  however  impractical  and 
absurd  her  theories  regarding  mind  and  matter,  no 
one  may  henceforth  accuse  her  of  any  nebulous  no- 
tions concerning  the  getting  and  keeping  of  money. 
Mr.  William  G.  Nixon  of  Boston,  formerly  publisher 
of  Mrs.  Eddy's  books,  gives  a  statement  as  to  the 
profits  derived  therefrom.  Here  are  a  few  of  the 
ligures  :  The  cost  to  produce  the  book,  "  Science  and 
Health,  with  Key  to  the  Scriptures,"  is  forty-seven 
cents,  and  the  book  is  sold  for  from  $3  to  $6.  Mrs. 
Eddy  says  she  has  sold  200,000  copies,  and  any  one 
can  compute  the  profit.  Mr.  Nixon  places  it  between 
$200,000  and  $400,000,  and  the  sale  goes  on.  It  owes 
its  success, —  the  Sun  remarks,  as  much  to  curiosity 
as  to  credulity.  Every  death  due  to  the  rejection 
of  medical  or  surgical  care  and  to  blind  belief  in  the 
Eddyite  nonsense,  helps  the  book  in  which  the  Eddyite 
creed  is  set  down,  and  the  lady  herself  is  scientific 
enough  to  look  after  carefully  her  immense  royalties. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  source  of  revenue.  She 
charges  $300  to  initiate  novices  into  the  art  of  healing, 
and  claims  to  have  instructed  personally  more  than 
4,000  persons.  $300  x  4,000  =$1,200,000  represents  a 
tidy  sum  for  this  part  of  her  labor.  To  place  her 
present  worth  at  $2,000,000  is  not  to  exceed  probability. 

There  is  a  proverb,  not  found  in  those  of  Solomon, 
but  well  known  to  wiseacres  in  every  age  which  Mrs. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  201 

Eddy  learned  long-  ago  and  put  to  good  use  ;  it  is  "  that 
a  fool  and  his  money  is  soon  parted."  There  is  no 
novelty  to  the  fact,  but  the  method  is  somewhat  new 
and  if  the  initiates  profit  in  anything  like  their  in- 
structor, the  price  paid  cannot  be  called  at  all  exor- 
bitant. That  some  of  them  do  we  can  hardly  doubt. 
Mark  Twain's  experience  is  not  altogether  fabulous. 
He  asked  the  "healer"  who  tried  to  mend  his  broken 
bones  by  suggestion  if  she  believed  "there  was  nothing 
real  but  mind  and  thought."  She  said  she  did.  So 
he  gave  her  an  imaginary  check  and  now  she  is  sueing 
him  for  substantial  dollars. 

•We  would  not  for  a  moment  intimate  that  all  these 
people  are  fools  or  knaves.  Life,  health,  and  souls 
are  too  serious  subjects  to  trifle  with.  We  cannot 
help  but  think  that  the  belief  in  so  sublimated  a  doc- 
trine as  that  of  "  Christian  Science "  is  a  natural 
revulsion  against  the  materialistic  spirit  of  the  times. 
Yet,  leaving  the  only  infallible  teacher  that  God  has 
given  us,  the  Church,  these  deluded  people  have 
realized  to  the  letter  St.  Paul's  prophecy  "that  the 
time  should  come  when  they  will  not  endure  sound 
doctrine,  but  according  to  their  own  desires,  they 
will  heap  to  them  teachers,  having  itching  ears  ;  and 
will,  indeed,  turn  away  their  hearing  from  the  truth, 
but  will  be  turned  into  old  wives'  fables." 


CONVENT   SCHOOLS   VS.    SECULAR   FEMALE   COLLEGES. 

There  was  a  time  when  Catholic  girls  who  were  to 
continue  their  studies  after  the  common  school  course 
was  finished  never  dreamed  of  attending  any  other 
school  than  one  of  our  convents  or  academies.  Unfor- 
tunately this  is  no  longer  the  case.  It  too  often  happens 
now  that  some  girl  who  has  finished  a  high  school 


202  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

course  in  our  little  country  towns  will  have  her  head 
turned  with  foolish  notions  of  college  and  nothing-  short 
of  a  term  there  will  satisfy  her  aspirations.  More 
unfortunately  still,  there  will  be  found  parents  silly 
enough  to  consent  readily  to  such  a  proposition,  and  the 
result  is  what  any  thoughtful  person  might  anticipate. 
It  is  not  our  purpose  to  weigh  the  comparative  values 
of  instruction  received  at  convent  schools  with  that 
obtained  at  secular  female  colleges,  but  this  we  hold 
without  fear  of  contradiction,  that  the  proper  place  for 
Catholic  young  ladies  to  receive  the  higher  education 
is  in  a  school  of  their  own  religion.  It  is  bad  enough 
to  expose  our  young  men  to  irreligious  influence  in 
the  great  universities,  but  that  our  young  women 
should  be  subject  to  like  exposure  is  shocking  in  ex- 
treme. It  is  very  well  to  count  the  many  inducements 
these  colleges  hold  out,  the  scholarships,  the  social 
circle,  the  chance  of  obtaining  a  position  as  teacher 
in  our  puclic  schools,  etc.  Even  if  we  admit  these, 
put  them  beside  the  cost  at  which  they  are  obtained. 
There  is  the  weakening  if  not  the  loss  of  faith,  there 
is  the  absence  of  those  little  practices  of  religion  that 
warm  every  true  Catholic  heart,  there  are  the  number- 
less graces  and  charms  acquired  in  a  convent,  and  no- 
where else,  that  mark  the  true  Christian  gentlewomen. 
Parents  may  rest  assured  that  secular  studies  and 
worldly  accomplishment  will  not  be  neglected  in  such 
schools,  and  we  never  had  to  blush  for  our  convent 
graduates  when  compared  with  those  of  other  schools. 
But  the  parents'  first  and  last  desire  should  be  that 
their  girls  should  be  children  of  Mary,  not  daughters 
of  Circe.  

THE   POPE  AND  OUR   OWN   UNIVERSITY. 

Pleased  as  no  doubt  the  Pope  was  by  the  token  of 
esteem  from  the  Protestant  University  of  Glasgow,  he 
must  have  been  exceedingly  gratified  by  the  account 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  203 

which  Cardinal  Gibbons  brought  him  of  the  university 
of  his  own  founding-  here  in  America.  No  one  better 
than  the  Holy  Father  understands  what  goes  to  make 
up  a  great  university,  and  no  one  appreciates  more 
than  he  the  power  for  good  such  an  institution  exerts 
in  guiding  the  intellectual  progress  of  a  nation,  when 
the  school  is  all  it  should  be  from  a  Christian,  Catholic 
standpoint.  In  the  ages  past,  a  hundred  years  was 
not  considered  too  much  time  to  bring  an  institution 
of  learning  to  the  dignity  of  a  university.  Royal  bounty 
was  lavished  upon  it;  eminent  teachers  were  sought 
the  world  over  to  grace  its  staff;  students  gathered 
from  every  corner  of  the  earth  to  share  its  instruction; 
saints  and  statesmen,  pontiffs  and  rulers  were  proud 
to  be  numbered  among  its  children.  Such  is  the  dream 
and  the  wish  of  our  Holy  Father  for  the  Catholic 
University  of  America.  Why  should  it  not  be  realized? 
And,  again  after  four  hundred  and  fifty  years,  the 
faculty  and  the  students  of  the  university  at  Wash- 
ington, Catholic  always  with  their  proud  record  behind 
them,  will  send  their  greeting  to  him  who  fills  the 
chair  of  Peter,  recalling  with  gratitude  the  name  of 
their  illustrious  founder,  Pope  Leo  XIII. 

Hardly  more  than  a  decade  is  past  since  the  uni- 
versity was  begun  and  already  it  has  taken  its  place 
among  the  foremost  institutions  of  learning  in  this 
country,  and  its  authority  is  recognized  abroad.  Its 
beautiful  buildings  and  spacious  grounds,  valued  at 
several  million  dollars,  are  an  ornament  to  the  most 
beautiful  city  in  the  world.  All  this  has  been  ac- 
complished not  by  the  munificence  of  a  few  millionaires, 
but  by  the  generosity  of  those  of  limited  means  and 
by  the  devotedness  of  those  in  charge  who  deemed 
no  labor  too  great,  no  sacrifice  too  exacting,  to  make 
a  university  worthy  of  the  Catholic  Church,  the  Mother 
of  Christian  art  and  science. 


204  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

ANARCHY. 

The  assassination  of  the  president  has  brought  us 
face  to  face  with  an  enemy  we  hardly  dreamed  existed 
in  our  land.  As  long  as  it  was  only  European  rulers 
who  fell  victims  to  the  monster  Anarchy,  we  looked 
on,  with  horror,  it  is  true,  yet  we  took  but  a  specu- 
lative interest  in  the  conditions  which  rendered  such 
happenings  possible.  We  had  a  vague  feeling,  too, 
that  this  evil  had  its  birth  in  oppression,  class  dis- 
tinction, misgovernment,  and  the  like,  and  vainly 
flattered  ourselves  that  being  free  from  all  of  these  the 
spawn  of  anarchy  could  not  live  in  our  free  soil.  We 
have  been  rudely  awakened.  There  never  was  a  ruler 
who  gave  less  cause  for  violation,  and  few  more  loved 
and  honored  than  President  McKinley.  There  was 
no  inequitable  law  to  undo,  there  was  no  oppression 
to  be  relieved.  What,  then,  was  the  cause  for  so 
shocking  a  crime?  Does  it  still  exist,  and  are  our 
rulers  still  exposed  to  a  like  violent  taking-off?  And 
what  is  the  remedy?  When  the  first  pangs  of  sor- 
row for  the  dead  are  passed,  these  are  the  thoughts 
that  naturally  arise  in  our  minds. 

The  newspapers  of  the  country  were  soon  into  the 
field  of  speculation  as  to  all  these  questions.  Some 
were  not  slow  to  lay  the  blame  for  anarchy  upon  the 
sensational  press,  which  by  every  means  possible  seeks 
to  belittle  and  malign  those  in  high  places.  That 
such  methods  do  incalculable  harm  cannot  be  denied. 
Such  influence  upon  the  unthinking  and  easily-led, — 
and  these  are  the  majority  of  the  people — is  deep  and 
lasting,  and  brings  discredit  with  it.  But  does  it  go 
to  the  extent  of  exciting  to  murder?  We  do  not  be- 
lieve so. 

Some  have  declared  anarchy  to  be  an  exotic,  trans- 
planted from  European  soil,  and  recommended  restric- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  205 

tion  of  immigration  to  stamp  it  out.  This,  too,  is 
unsatisfactory.  All  the  slayers  of  our  presidents 
were  native  born. 

To  our  mind  there  is  only  one  explanation  and  that 
is  exceedingly  simple.  The  reason  of  anarchy  is  the 
absence  of  belief  in  God.  This  and  this  alone  can 
account  for  its  presence.  Without  belief  in  God  there 
is  no  sense  of  responsibility  here  and  no  hope  for  a 
hereafter.  Then  follows  the  denial  of  the  rights  of 
man.  If  the  one  has  no  right  to  the  goods  he  possesses 
neither  has  another  any  obligation  to  respect  his 
claims,  and  may  possess  himself  of  his  neighbor's 
goods  by  force  or  by  fraud.  All  this  follows  from  the 
denial  of  God;  for  without  God  there  is  no  order,  no 
authority,  no  right,  no  wrong,  and  what  is  all  this 
but  Anarchy? 

Where  is  the  remedy?  We  may  punish  the  offender, 
yet  there  is  not  one  of  us  but  feels  poignantly  that 
we  have  not  removed  the  cause,  and  this  is  the  saddest 
feature  of  it  all.  The  unfortunate  homicide  is  only 
one  of  a  class,  how  numerous  we  know  not,  but  how 
capable  of  doing  harm  we  know  too  well.  Not  a  few 
have  suggested  repressive  legislation.  By  rigorous 
laws  they  would  strike  terror  into  the  hearts  of  those 
disposed  to  violence.  Vain  Russia  is  an  example  of 
the  futility  of  laws  like  these.  No  country  has  such 
stringent  laws  for  the  suppression  of  anarchy  and  no 
where  else  does  anarchy  so  abound.  What  remedy 
did  the  pulpit  of  the  country  offer?  In  many  cases, 
lynching,  annihilation,  etc.  The  heat  of  indignation 
might  excuse  such  utterances  as  these  but  sober  re- 
flection will  tell  us  that  law  and  order  are  not  to  be 
maintained  by  the  violation  of  both. 

The  remedy  for  anarchy  is  religion,  and  that  is  the 
only  remedy.  Our  holy  father,  Pope  Leo  XIII.,  has, 


206  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

with  almost  prophetic  vision,  pointed  out,  from  his 
very  first  encyclical,  the  ruination  of  society  from  the 
loss  of  faith,  and  bade  the  nations  return  to  God  if 
they  would  preserve  their  very  existence.  The  French 
have  a  saying-  "Entre  1'eau  be'nite  et  la  dynamite  il 
n'y  a  pas  d'arret,"  "between  holy-water  and  dynamite 
there  is  no  logical  stopping  place."  Happily  most  men 
are  not  so  logical,  and  the  man  without  belief  in  God 
does  not  always  go  to  the  length  that  his  want  of 
belief  might  lead  him,  but  it  is  none  the  less  true 
that  the  anarchist  who  does,  has  no  other  reason  for 
it  than  his  absence  of  faith.  Give  men  Christian  faith 
and  there  will  be  no  anarchy. 


ALL  SOULS. 


The  month  of  November  begins  with  the  Feast  of 
All  Saints,  but  it  is  our  duty  to  all  souls  that  should 
occupy  us  most  for  the  whole  of  the  month  beside. 
The  intention  of  the  Church  in  this  matter  is  plain 
enough.  Her  charity  is  universal  and,  on  these  days 
of  grace,  she  directs  our  Masses  and  petitions  in 
behalf  of  all  her  suffering  children,  who  may  yet  be 
detained  in  the  prison-house  of  God's  justice  till  their 
debt  of  sin  be  paid.  When  our  friends  and  relatives 
die  our  natural  affection  and  our  faith  prompt  us  to 
beseech  the  throne  of  grace  for  them.  How  many 
poor  souls  leave  this  world  with  no  relative  or  friend 
behind  to  say  a  prayer  for  them  or  to  have  a  Mass 
offered  in  their  behalf?  Then  the  insufficiency 
of  human  friendship!  How  many  friends  are  for- 
gotten and  how  often  are  the  natural  claims  neglected? 
Yet  the  justice  of  God  abides  and  demands  that  the 
debt  be  paid  to  the  last  farthing.  It  is  here  that  the 
Church's  charity  is  seen.  No  one  is  omitted,  no  one 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  207 

is  overlooked.  Year  after  year,  as  regularly  as  the 
earth  turns  upon  its  axis,  does  Holy  Mother  Church 
turn  her  face  to  God  in  prayer  and  supplication  for 
these  abandoned  and  neglected  ones.  Can  we  do  less 
than  heed  her  appeal  in  their  behalf? 

The  mere  handing-  in  the  names  of  our  friends  for 
the  Mass  of  All  Souls  is  by  no  means  doing  our  duty 
toward  the  dead.  There  is  every  other  day  in  the 
year  when  the  Holy  Sacrifice  might  be  offered  for 
them.  There  is  the  weekly  or  monthly  Communion; 
there  is  the  daily  recitation  of  the  beads  or  some  suita- 
ble prayer ;  there  is  hardly  an  hour  in  the  day  but  we 
could  offer  some  act  of  kindness  or  mortification  for 
the  souls  in  purgatory.  If  our  charity  does  not  move 
us  to  help  them,  will  not  self-interest  prompt  us  to  do 
so?  As  they  are  we  will  be,  forgotten  and  abandoned 
by  the  world.  The  faithful  souls  helped  by  our  prayers 
never  forget,  and  being  freed  through  our  instrumen- 
tality will  surely  help  us  in  turn. 


A   TEMPERANCE    TALK   FOR    LENT. 

The  recent  legislation  of  the  Church  has  been  so 
indulgent  that  hardly  any  man  or  woman  is  now 
obliged  to  fast  during  Lent,  but  the  usefulness,  the 
necessity  of  some  mortification  or  penance  is  as  press- 
ing as  ever  for  us  all.  If  we  were  asked  what  sub- 
stitute we  would  suggest  for  abstinence  from  food,  we 
would  say  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  abstain  from 
liquor.  Let  us  talk  the  matter  over.  First,  see  its 
useless  extravagance.  The  annual  drink  bill  for  the 
United  States  is  $1,000,000,000,  while  the  sum  raised 
by  taxes  of  all  kinds,  national,  state,  county,  city, 
town,  school,  and  all  others,  is  but  $700,000,000.  We 
read  that  the  nation's  expense  during  the  last  war 


208  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

was  $1 ,000,000  a  day ;  we  are  astounded,  but  the  drink 
bill  of  the  country  is  three  times  that  amount  for 
every  day.  Again,  we  are  accustomed  to  compute  the 
amount  of  money  spent  in  the  maintenance  of  religion, 
but  if  all  the  church  property  in  the  United  States 
was  destroyed  by  fire,  abstinence  for  six  months 
would  rebuild  it  all.  And  remember  that  this  money 
is  spent  not  for  a  necessary,  not  even  for  a  useful 
article  of  human  diet.  Liquor,  even  in  its  most  harm- 
less form,  is  but  a  luxury,  and  when  taken  in  more 
than  moderate  quantity,  becomes  a  slow  poison.  This 
vast  expenditure  of  money  reproduces  nothing-,  and  no 
benefit  is  had  from  the  outlay.  If  all  the  liquor  pro- 
duced were  dumped  in  the  sea  it  would  be  so  much 
the  better  for  mankind  and  so  much  the  worse  for 
the  fishes. 

What  is  it  that  makes  men  poor  and  keeps  them 
so?  It  is  their  accursed  appetite  for  liquor.  It  is 
only  five  cents  now  and  then,  a  dime  or  a  quarter  to 
treat  a  friend,  but  their  wives  or  their  children  at 
home  want  bread  and  clothes  and  fuel. 

Does  drink  kill  men?  Any  physician  will  tell  you 
that  a  body  saturated  with  alcohol  is  exposed  to  any 
disease,  and  is  unable  to  withstand  its  ravages  when 
attacked.  Insurance  companies  are  not  very  senti- 
mental, but  they  will  not  insure  an  immoderate 
drinker  because  his  life  is  too  uncertain  for  them  to 
risk  any  money  upon  it.  One  hundred  thousand 
drunkards  annually  sink  into  early  and  dishonored 
graves,  and  at  the  devil's  call  for  recruits  another 
hundred  thousand  take  their  places.  Will  you  be  one 
of  them? 

Drink  begets  vice  and  is  the  father  of  crime.  It 
inflames  the  passions,  it  breaks  down  the  barriers  of 
self-respect  and  decency.  It  feeds  immorality  and 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  209 

leads  to  murder  and  suicide.  It  dulls  one's  con- 
science so  as  to  make  remorse  impossible  and  conver- 
sion out  of  the  question.  It  transmits  the  curse 
from  generation  to  generation,  imparting  to  children 
the  fatal  craving  for  drink.  Can  we  imagine  any 
greater  curse  than  this?  Well  has  Gladstone  declared : 
"Greater  calamities,  greater  because  more  continuous, 
have  been  inflicted  on  man  by  drink  than  by  the  three 
great  historic  scourges  of  war,  famine  and  pestilence 
combined." 

But  this  has  been  told  a  thousand  times,  and  the 
man  who  needs  the  lesson  most  is  the  one  who  heeds 
it  least.  It  is  all  very  true,  he  will  say,  but  it  is 
meant  for  another.  He  only  takes  a  drink  once  in  a 
while ;  he  can  take  and  leave  it  alone.  So  said  the 
other  man,  the  poor,  besotted  fool  that  fills  a  drunk- 
ard's grave.  But  here  I  take  you  at  your  word. 
You  can  take  it  and  leave  it  alone?  That  you  can 
take  it  we  know.  Now  show  us,  show  your  family 
and  friends  that  you  can  leave  it  alone,  if  only  for  the 
space  of  forty  days.  Be  Christian  enough  to  make 
that  sacrifice  for  the  love  of  the  good  Saviour  who 
fasted  from  food  and  drink  that  length  of  time  for 
your  sake.  Then,  too,  for  the  sacred  thirst  He  felt 
upon  the  cross  do  you  mortify  your  inordinate  thirst 
for  drink  at  least  during  this  holy  season  of  Lent. 


THE  SORROWS   OF   CHRIST. 

Lent  is  a  time  set  apart  by  the  Church  to  com- 
memorate the  sufferings  and  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  The  forty  days  recall  His  fast  in  the  desert, 
where  He  hungered  and  thirsted  for  our  sake.  Then 
comes  Holy  Week  with  its  story  of  His  passion  and 
dreadful  death.  If  that  were  all,  it  were  enough;  but 


210  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

it  is  not  all.  True,  "Christ  rising1  from  the  dead, 
dieth  no  more,"  but  the  cause  of  these  sufferings  and 
of  that  death  still  abides  in  the  world,  and  is  daily 
renewed. 

It  is  the  teaching  of  our  holy  religion  that  Christ 
died  for  us  individually  as  well  as  for  us  collectively, 
for  you  and  for  me  ;  for  me  who  writes  these  lines 
and  for  you  who  read  them.  By  His  divine  fore- 
knowledge He  saw  every  one  of  our  offenses,  from 
the  first  to  the  last.  In  His  agony  in  the  garden 
they  were  before  Him  as  plainly  and  separately  as 
if  we  alone  were  in  the  world.  It  was  the  vision  of 
our  sins,  the  sins  of  yesterday,  the  sins  of  to-day, 
and  the  sins  of  to-morrow  that  made  Him  sorrow- 
ful even  unto  death  and  caused  the  blood  to  break 
forth  from  every  pore. 

Let  us  look  about  us  in  the  world  to-day  and  count 
if  we  can  the  causes  which  afflict  the  tender  heart 
of  our  Divine  Saviour.  How  many  there  are,  even 
after  nineteen  hundred  years  of  Christianity,  who 
never  so  much  as  have  heard  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ?  One  half  the  human  race  are  yet  practical 
idolaters.  And  what  of  those  who  call  themselves 
Christians?  How  many  never  hear  His  holy  name 
but  coupled  with  some  vile  oath  or  blasphemy  ?  See 
how  the  Christian  world  is  divided  and  rent  with 
schism.  Think  you  that  it  is  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence to  God  that  millions  should  deny  divinity  to 
two  persons  of  the  most  Blessed  Trinity?  Is  it  of 
no  consequence  that  among-  those  who  have  known 
Jesus  Christ  and  the  works  He  accomplished,  there 
are  millions  who  still  refuse  to  believe  Him  God  and 
continue  to  reject  His  holy  teaching?  Is  it  not  a 
source  of  sorrow  to  that  Divine  Master  that  those 
whom  He  came  to  save  know  nothing,  or  care  noth- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  211 

ing,  for  the  sublime  sacraments  He  left  them  as  so 
many  channels  of  grace?  Is  not  His  heart  moved 
with  grief  to  see  His  divine  presence  in  the  Blessed 
Eucharist  scoffed  at  and  denied,  while  from  the  depths 
of  the  tabernacle  He  says,  "All  the  day  long  have  I 
spread  my  hands  to  a  people  that  believe th  not,  and 
contradicteth  me?" 

How  many  treat  His  vicar  on  earth  contumeliously, 
even  as  His  enemies  treated  Him?  Then  realize 
how  He  "is  wounded  in  the  house  of  His  friends." 
What  a  heap  of  sorrows  bad  Catholics  daily  lay  upon 
His  thorn-crowned  Head.  Think  of  the  sins  of 
drunkenness,  to  atone  for  which  our  blessed  Lord 
thirsted  on  the  Cross  and  drank  the  bitter  draught 
of  vinegar  and  gall.  Yet  how  few  there  are  among 
us  who,  even  for  the  short  space  of  forty  days,  will 
forego  the  drinking  habit  and  make  that  little  atone- 
ment for  our  own  excesses  and  the  excesses  of 
others.  Then  there  are  the  sins  of  the  flesh.  Who 
can  number  these?  Only  Jesus,  and  the  drops  of 
His  precious  blood  are  not  as  numerous  as  those 
sins  committed  every  day. 

The  last  great  act  of  Calvary  is  daily  renewed  on 
our  altars  in  the  sacrifice  of  the  Holy  Mass.  How 
little  do  many  Catholics  appreciate  it!  Not  even 
Sunday  and  holy  days,  with  the  penalty  of  mortal 
sin,  can  bring  them  to  assist  at  the  Divine  function. 
Easter  comes  with  the  joys  and  the  blessings  of  the 
risen  Saviour,  but  is  not  His  heart,  even  in  the 
midst  of  all  His  joy,  saddened  by  the  thought  that 
the  season  of  grace  only  brings  additional  guilt  to 
those  who  neglect  the  precept  of  the  Church  and  fail 
to  make  their  Easter  duty. 

Let  us  ask  ourselves  if  we  be  among  those  who  add 
to  the  sorrows  of  Christ. 


212  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

THE    COMING    OF    THE    KING. 

What  a  desolate  place  this  world  would  be  without 
Christ  1  What  a  dreary  round  our  years  without  the 
festival  of  Christmas!  Who  can  enumerate  the 
blessings  the  Christ  Child  brought  with  Him  into  this 
world,  and  who  can  tell  the  innumerable  graces  the 
recurring  feast  of  His  holy  birth  still  brings  to  the 
children  of  men?  At  the  time  of  His  first  coming 
the  world  was  sunk  in  idolatry.  The  knowledge  of 
the  true  God  was  lost  to  all  except  a  handful  of  the 
human  race,  the  faithful  of  the  Jewish  nation.  In  the 
place  of  God  men  deified  their  passions.  Lust, 
drunkenness,  thievery,  war,  all  the  baser  instincts  of 
human  nature  were  personified  in  gods  like  Venus, 
Bacchus,  Mercury,  Mars,  and  men  rendered  divine 
homage  to  these  things.  It  is  no  wonder  that  society 
was  debased,  that  slavery  was  universal,  that  wars 
were  incessant,  that  injustice  prevailed,  that  the  poor 
and  the  suffering  filled  the  world  with  a  pitiful  wail. 
Yet  God  was  mindful  of  him  whom  He  had  created  to 
His  own  image  and  likeness,  no  matter  bow  much 
that  image  had  been  defaced  and  defiled.  God  was 
faithful  to  the  promise  He  had  made  penitent  Adam 
and,  in  His  own  good  time,  He  sent  us  a  Redeemer 
in  the  Person  of  His  own  divine  Son,  the  Child  Jesus 
who  was  born  on  that  first  Christmas  night. 

As  gently  as  the  dew  falls  upon  the  grass,  as 
noiselessly  as  the  sun  rises  upon  the  sleeping  world, 
came  the  Great  Child  King  to  His  kingdom.  The  glad 
tidings  were  announced  only  to  a  fe%v  poor  shepherds 
who  watched  their  flocks  on  the  hillside.  The  rest 
of  the  world  knew  not,  nor  cared  not  for  His  coming. 
The  winter  night  was  not  so  cold,  nor  His  stony 
manger  so  hard  as  the  hearts  of  those  He  came  to 
save.  Had  they  not  told  His  Blessed  Mother  that  very 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  213 

night,  while  she  bore  Him  in  her  holy  breast,  "they 
had  no  room  for  them?"  Yet  He  would  not  be  re- 
pulsed. They  would  learn  to  know  and  love  Him. 
He  would  save  them  in  the  end.  Nineteen  hundred 
years  have  passed  since  then.  Who  can  count  the 
millions  of  souls  who  have  kept  the  Saviour's  birth 
with  joy  and  thanksgiving-?  That  day  is  the  pivotal 
day  in  the  world's  history.  The  years  that  went 
before  are  counted  to  His  coming  and  all  that  come 
after  are  reckoned  from  His  birth.  So  did  the  old 
order  cease  to  be  and  the  new  order  begin.  Charity, 
the  true  love  of  God  and  the  true  love  of  men,  was 
born  into  the  world  with  Christ  the  Lord.  Well, 
then,  might  the  angels  sing,  "Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest  and  on  earth  peace  to  men  of  good-will." 

The  reign  of  the  gods  has  passed  away.  Justice, 
truth,  and  virtue  have  been  established  in  their  stead. 
It  is  true  there  are  many  still,  in  this  world  of  ours, 
who  have  not  heard  the  glad  song  of  the  angels, 
who  have  not  seen  or  who  will  not  follow  the  star 
which  leads  to  Bethlehem;  many  still  sit  "in  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,"  but  the  kingdom  of 
God  has  been  established  and  it  will  last  to  the  end 
of  time.  Other  kingdoms  come  and  go  but  that  of 
the  gentle  Jesus  abides  forever.  On  that  first  Christ- 
mas night  His  worshippers  consisted  of  His  Holy 
Mother,  St.  Joseph  and  a  few  humble  shepherds. 
To-day  they  number  five  hundred  and  fifty  millions. 
All  this  has  been  accomplished  after  the  fiercest 
struggle.  The  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  are 
redoubtable  adversaries,  but  the  little  Child  of 
Bethlehem  has  overcome  them  all. 

But  what  does  Christmas  mean  to  us  individually? 
Ah,  desolate,  indeed,  is  the  heart  which  feels  no  quick- 
ening impulse  at  the  coming  of  Christmas  day  !  God 


214  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

forbid  we  should  be  ever  so  insensible  as  not  to  be 
moved  by  the  prompting1  of  love  for  that  sweet  Saviour, 
"Who  left  His  high  home  to  be  born  in  a  manger." 
We  have  not  the  excuse  of  those  who  could 
find  no  room  for  Him  in  the  inn.  We  know 
who  He  is  and  what  He  is.  We  know  His 
whole  life's  story  from  the  crib  to  the  cross. 
We  know  what  He  did  and  suffered  for  us.  We 
know,  too,  that  He  knocks  daily  at  our  hearts  and  seeks 
admission,  but  more  especially  on  festivals  like  this. 
Will  we  close  those  hearts  to  Him  ?  Surely  not. 

Admitting  Him,  we  must  let  in  our  poor  and  suffer- 
ing brothers.  Christ  never  comes  to  us  alone.  We 
must  receive  His  friends  as  well.  And  our  Christmas 
joy  will  be  complete  when  we  receive  Christ  the  Lord 
and  all  mankind  in  perfect  Christian  charity. 


PRAYERS   FOR   DEAD   PRIESTS. 

The  Church  is  ever  solicitous  for  the  dead.  The 
souls  of  her  faithful  departed  are  always  a  source  of 
anxious  care  for  her,  and  she  neglects  no  opportunity 
to  raise  her  voice  in  their  behalf.  Hardly  has  the 
soul  left  the  body  when  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the 
Mass,  the  sublimest  offering  she  can  make,  is  sent 
up  to  Heaven's  chancery  in  its  behalf.  Again  on  the 
third  and  on  the  seventh  after  the  demise  her  liturgy 
prescribes  a  special  remembrance.  Thirty  days  and 
then  comes  the  Month's  Mind.  Each  recurring  year 
brings  its  solemn  anniversary,  and  throughout  the 
year  to  nearly  all  of  her  prayers  is  added  the 
supplication: — "May  the  souls  of  the  faithful  departed 
through  the  mercy  of  God  rest  in  peace.  Amen." 
As  if  all  this  were  not  enough,  one  whole  month, 
that  upon  which  we  are  now  entering,  is  consecrated 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  215 

entirely  to  remembrance  of  the  dead.  How  admirably 
suited  is  the  provision  of  the  Church!  It  calls  us  to 
a  sense  of  duty  in  behalf  of  the  suffering-  souls  in 
Purgatory.  During  the  rest  of  the  year,  notwithstand- 
ing- the  frequent  monitions  of  the  Church,  we  are  apt 
to  turn  away  our  thoughts  from  so  mournful  a  subject, 
and  we  are  too  ready  to  forget  our  obligations  toward  the 
dead.  But  with  November,  the  month  of  all  souls, 
comes  the  solemn  question — What  are  we  doing-  for 
the  dead?  For  most  people  the  claims  of  nature  are 
sufficient  to  awaken  a  prayerful  remembrance  for 
relatives  and  friends,  but  it  is  for  another  class  which 
is  too  often  forg-otten  that  we  would  bespeak  your 
charity  here.  It  is  for  the  souls  of  your  dead  priests. 
How  few  there  are  who  think  to  pray  for  them! 

When  November  eve  comes  around  and  the  names 
of  the  dead  are  handed  in;  when  the  priest  looks  over 
the  list,  and  that  often  with  dimmed  eyes,  seldom  does 
he  find  mention  of  the  priests  who  have  g-one  before. 
Fathers,  mothers,  brothers,  sisters,  distant  relatives, 
even  strangers,  but  the  dead  priest's  name  is  not 
there.  Is  it  because  he  is  forgotten?  No,  his  memory 
may  be  still  fresh,  his  words  quoted,  his  example  cited. 
Is  it  because  the  people  whom  he  served  are  ungrate- 
ful? No,  that  is  not  one  of  the  failings  of  Catholics. 
Why,  then,  is  his  name  so  seldom  found  upon  their 
lips  in  prayer,  or  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  is  never 
asked  in  his  behalf?  We  have  often  heard  people  say 
of  their  dead  priests,  "They  do  not  need  prayers," 
"If  they  do  not  go  to  heaven  who  will?"  Ah,  my  breth- 
ren, that  may  be  very  flattering  for  the  living,  but  it  is 
poor  consolation  for  the  dead.  The  priest  himself  feels 
no  such  assurance.  He  knows  better  than  any  one  else 
how  much  he  needs  the  prayers  of  his  people.  If  Saint 
Paul  asked  his  brethren  to  pray  for  him,  lest  while  he 


216  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

preached  to  others  he  himself  should  be  cast  away, 
with  how  much  more  reason  can  the  every-day  priest, 
far  from  the  holiness  of  Saint  Paul,  ask  his  brethren 
to  intercede  with  God  for  him? 

It  is  true  that  the  priest  is  the  channel  through  which 
grace  comes  to  the  souls  of  men  for  their  salvation. 
But  he  is  only  a  human  channel  withal,  and  that  grace 
may  pass  by  and  leave  him  barren  and  dry.  He 
receives  special  graces  from  God,  it  is  true,  and  helps 
for  sanctification  which  others  do  not  share,  but  his 
accounting  will  be  the  greater  for  that, —  "To  whom 
much  is  given,  much  shall  be  required," — and  what 
priest  is  there  who  does  not  tremble  at  his  respon- 
sibilities? The  fact  that  he  is  a  priest  does  not  imply 
that  his  salvation  is  assured.  And  even  though  he 
save  his  soul,  how  many  defects  have  entered  into  his 
work!  He  has  been  dealing  with  souls,  and  God's 
graces  have  been  the  talents  entrusted  to  his  care. 
Can  he  say,  "Of  those  whom  thou  hast  given  me  I 
have  not  lost  any  one?"  Though  God,  in  His  mercy, 
may  save  him  in  the  end,  yet,  his  reckoning  will  be 
great  and  his  punishment  severe. 

What  Claims  Has  the  Dead  Priest  Upon  Your  Prayers  f 

He  was  your  father  in  Christ.  He  it  was  who 
engendered  you  in  the  Lord,  he  who  poured  the 
saving  waters  of  baptism  upon  your  head  and  made 
you  children  of  God,  with  the  right  to  heaven.  He 
it  was  who  cleansed  you  again  and  again  from  sin, 
in  the  Sacrament  of  Penance.  He  it  was  who  broke 
for  you  the  Bread  of  Life.  In  sickness  he  succored 
you,  in  sorrow  he  consoled  you.  He  blessed  your 
marriage,  instructed  your  little  ones  in  their  duty 
towards  God,  and  lighted  the  dim  vision  of  your 
dying  with  the  glory  of  heaven  beyond.  He  prayed 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  217 

for  your  dead  and  lightened  your  bereavement.  Who 
can  count  his  many  offices  for  you  ?  And  are  not  all 
these  so  many  claims  upon  your  Christian  charity  ? 
How  can  you  better  repay  them  than  by  the  tribute 
of  your  prayers?  Ah,  your  poor  dead  priest  will 
prize  these  more  than  anything  else  earth  can  bestow. 
It  matters  little  to  him  whether  a  costly  monument 
be  raised  over  his  last  resting  place,  or  that  his  form 
be  moulded  in  imperishable  bronze.  A  place  in  the 
hearts  of  a  grateful  people  and  a  memento  in  their 
prayers  he  prizes  more  than  these.  It  is  for  this 
reason  that  many  a  great  and  holy  bishop  has  asked 
to  be  buried,  not  in  the  crypt  of  a  cathedral  church, 
but  in  the  chapel  of  an  orphanage,  where  the  little 
ones  will  see  his  simple  monument  and  offer  a  prayer 
for  his  soul,  or,  like  the  late  bishop  of  Portland, 
whose  wish  was  to  lie  in  the  common  cemetery,  with 
the  hope  that  his  name  would  find  place  in  the 
prayers  of  the  people  who  came  there  to  pray  for 
their  beloved  dead. 

If  you,  the  sheep  of  his  fold,  do  not  pray  for  him, 
who  will?  Father  and  mother  he  has  none.  They 
have  gone  before  him.  Children,  he  leaves  none  be- 
hind. Family  and  friends  he  forsook  for  your  sake. 
Surely  you  will  not  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of 
his  petition  coming  from  the  grave :  "Have  pity  on 
me,  have  pity  on  me,  at  least  you  my  friends,  for 
the  hand  of  God  hath  touched  me." 


EASTER'S  PROMISE. 


What  joy,  peace,  and  refreshment  Easter  brings! 
The  flowers  have  been  waiting  for  this  glad  festival. 
The  earth  is  brighter,  the  sky  bluer,  the  birds  are 
merrier  and  friends  happier,  it  seems  to  us,  than  at 


218  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

any  other  time  of  the  whole  year.  Easter  is  the  world's 
resurrection  morn.  Out  of  the  cold  tomb  of  winter 
comes  the  glad  summer.  Up  from  the  dead  earth 
rises  a  new  and  glorious  life. 

"Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might, 

An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers, 
And  groping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 
Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers." 

Yet,  what  is  Nature's  joy  compared  to  that  the 
Christian  soul  feels  at  the  message  the  angels  bring, 
"Christ,  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day?"  For  us,  Easter  is 
not  simply  the  coming  of  life,  it  is  the  promise  of  life 
eternal  and  the  assurance  of  a  blessedness  without 
end.  Spring  is  only  a  temporary  victory  over  death. 
Winter  will  come  again  and  take  its  revenge.  The 
flower,  which  blows  to-day,  will  fade;  the  grass  will  die, 
the  tree  fall,  and  the  song  of  the  bird  will  be  hushed. 
Another  spring  will  come,  it  is  true,  but  the  flower  that 
fades  will  never  bloom  again,  the  tree  that  falls  will 
lie  forever,  and  the  bird  that  dies  returns  no  more. 
But  it  is  not  so  with  us.  Christ  rising  from  the  dead 
"  lead  Captivity  captive."  His  resurrection  is  a  guar- 
antee of  our  own  and  with  Him  we  can  say  :  UO  Grave, 
where  is  thy  victory?  O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting?" 

We  need  the  promise  of  heaven.  We  do  not  think 
often  enough  of  our  heavenly  home.  Let  us,  to-day, 
raise  our  hearts,  and  forgetting  our  trials  and  suffer- 
ings, our  losses  and  desolation,  lift  our  eyes  and  see, 
as  far  as  it  is  given  mortal  eyes  to  see,  the  joys  God 
has  prepared  for  those  who  love  Him. 

We  Shall  Be  Changed. 

First  of  all,  to  prepare  for  an  eternity  of  bliss  we 
shall  be  changed  and  yet  not  changed  entirely.  Death 
is  the  alembic.  The  same  consciousness  we  now  have 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  219 

will  remain,  the  same  memory  of  the  past,  and,  when 
time  shall  be  no  more,  we  will  again  animate  the  same 
bodies  we  now  possess.  "The  dead  shall  rise  again, 
incorruptible,  and  we  shall  be  changed.  We 
shall  all  indeed  rise  again,  but  we  shall  not 
all  be  changed."  Christ's  resurrection  is  the 
type  of  our  own.  But,  some  will  say,  how 
is  it  possible?  Does  not  the  human  body  change  dur- 
ing life?  Are  not  particles  cast  off  continually  and 
is  not  our  body  renewed  within  the  space  of  some 
years?  We  answer,  yes,  but,  in  all  these  changes, 
do  we  not  still  abide  the  same  persons?  Not  all  and 
every  particle  that  once  was  ours  is  necessary  to 
constitute  a  body  for  us  now.  Neither  shall  it  be  here- 
after. Can  a  body  reduced  to  ashes  be  called  back  to 
form?  Again  we  answer:  Science  shows  that  no 
material  element  in  this  world  is  ever  destroyed,  and  it 
only  requires  knowledge  and  skill  for  man  to  restore 
it  to  any  form  it  once  had.  Cannot  God  do  as  much  as 
this?  Did  He  not  form  the  first  human  body  out  of 
the  dust  of  the  earth,  and  why  cannot  He  do  the  like 
again?  Our  belief  is  the  same  that  Job  expressed 
when  he  said:  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and 
in  the  last  day  I  shall  rise  out  of  the  earth,  and  I 
shall  be  clothed  again  in  my  skin  and  in  my  flesh  I 
shall  see  my  God." 

We  shall  then  be  the  same,  but  perfected.  These 
bodies  of  ours  will  bear  none  of  the  infirmities  or 
deformities  which  now  render  them  defective  or  un- 
sightly. All  that  is  good  in  mind  and  body  shall  be 
ours.  Some  of  the  learned  doctors  of  the  church 
have  pursued  these  speculations  far  and  have  pro- 
pounded curious  and  interesting  questions.  If  we 
are  so  perfected,  say  they,  what  will  become  of 
infancy  and  old  age  ?  St.  Thomas  thought  there 


220  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

would  be  no  children  and  no  old  people  in  heaven 
because  both  conditions  imply  defects.  For  our  part, 
we  would  rather  have  it  otherwise.  Infancy  has  its 
charm  and  old  age  its  beauty,  and  could  not  God 
preserve  these  while  remedying  the  defects  of  each? 
The  glorified  body  will  be  freed  from  the  tram- 
mels of  the  flesh.  There  will  be  no  need  of  eating, 
drinking,  sleeping,  for  these  are  only  the  means  of 
sustaining  our  wasting  earthly  elejnents.  Like  the 
angels  we  shall  feast  on  the  vision  of  God  and  never 
tire  of  His  infinite  beauty.  Space  will  be  no  barrier 
to  us  then.  The  elect  of  heaven  can  travel  with 
the  ease  and  rapidity  of  thought.  If  it  were  accorded 
to  us  to  see  thus  and  visit  the  bounds  of  the  universe 
which  hang  over  our  heads  on  a  starry  night,  would 
not  that  be  heaven  enough?  The  body  of  the  risen 
Saviour  found  no  obstacle  in  the  material  world.  He 
entered  the  upper  room  where  the  apostles  were 
assembled,  "the  doors  being  shut."  So  shall  the 
bodies  of  the  saints  find  no  hindrance  to  their 

passing. 

What  Heaven   Is. 

So  far  we  have  considered  only  our  preparation  for 
heaven.  Where  and  what  is  that  future  home?  Is  it 
a  place  or  is  it  a  condition  of  mind  ?  So  far  as  the 
enjoyment  of  God's  presence  is  concerned,  heaven  is 
not  confined  to  a  place.  God  is  everywhere  and  the 
angels  and  saints  never  lose  the  consciousness  of 
His  divine  presence  wherever  they  go.  St.  John 
describes  in  the  Apocalypse  a  city  of  gold.  St. 
Gregory  tells  us  it  is  situated  beyond  the  bounds 
of  space  and  Dante  names  the  very  planets  where 
we  may  look  for  the  abode  of  the  just.  All  of  these 
must  be  taken  only  figuratively  for  it  has  not  pleased 
God  to  enlighten  us  thus  far.  It  would  seem,  how- 


OF  BLSHOP  DELANY  221 

ever,  from  the  writings  of  the  Apocalypse  that,  after 
the  day  of  Judgment,  this  world  will  be  purified 
by  fire,  then  renewed  and  regenerated  for  the  dwelling- 
place  of  glorified  man. 

But  the  joy  of  heaven,  in  what  does  that  consist? 
Ah,  here  is  where  human  thought  fails  and  human 
words  prove  inadequate.  If  St.  Paul,  to  whom  was 
given  a  glimpse  of  that  abode  of  bliss,  could  find  no 
words  to  describe  it,  who  can  give  us  an  adequate 
idea  of  its  joy?  "Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard, 
neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man,  what 
things  God  has  prepared  for  them  that  love  Him." 

Nevertheless  let  us  strive,  however  imperfectly,  to 
realize,  if  only  for  a  moment,  in  what  the  joys  of 
heaven  consist.  There  will  be  no  sickness,  no 
suffering,  no  mourning,  no  loss,  no  separation,  no 
doubts,  no  fears,  no  temptations,  no  dangers.  Peace, 
perfect  contentment,  and  joy  shall  reign  supreme. 
There  we  shall  be  in  the  company  of  those  we  loved  here 
upon  earth  and  in  union  with  the  blessed  saints  of 
God,  the  patriarchs,  the  prophets,  the  apostles,- 
virgins,  martyrs,  confessors,  the  world's  greatest 
and  truest  heroes.  There  we  shall  see  the  Blessed 
Mother  of  God  whom  the  angels  vie  to  honor  and 
serve. 

But  above  all  and  beyond  all  this,  we  will  be  in  the 
enjoyment  of  God  Himself.  "I  will  be,"  said  He, 
"your  reward  exceeding  great."  And  this  only  is 
heaven. 

An  old  catechism  says,  we  will  see  God  and  love, 
Him  and  possess  Him. 

We  will  see  Him,  not  as  in  this  life,  through  the 
obscurity  of  faith.  "We  will  see  Him  as  He  is."  All 
the  beauty  of  this  world  is  but  the  faintest  shadow 
of  the  beauty  of  God.  It  was  but  a  partial  revelation 


222  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

of  the  divine  glory  that  transfigured  Our  Saviour  on 
Mt.  Tabor,  yet,  at  the  sight,  the  apostles  would  have 
remained  there  forever.  Aided  by  the  light  of  grace, 
the  glorified  soul  will  see  the  Blessed  Trinity,  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  Three  yet  One,  distinct  yet  not 
separable,  ineffable  in  perfection  and  knowing  no 
change.  Here  is  Truth,  Goodness,  and  Beauty,  Infi- 
nite in  degree  and  duration. 

We  will  love  God.  Who  could  see  Him  and  know 
Him  and  not  love  Him?  We  will  love  Him,  not  as 
we  do  to-day,  with  a  weak  inconstant  love,  but  with 
a  love  strong,  ardent,  and  perfect.  We  will  love  Him 
without  tiring  and  only  for  the  pleasure  of  loving  Him. 
Our  heart,  now  so  eager,  yet  insatiable,  will  then  rest 
content,  for  it  will  be  united  to  the  great  heart  of  God. 

We  will  possess  God.  What  is  the  great  and  sole 
desire  of  the  just  upon  earth?  It  is  to  be  united  to 
God.  That  union  begun  here  will  be  consummated  in 
heaven.  We  will  possess  God  in  the  highest,  holiest, 
closest  possible  manner.  He  will  be  ours  and  we  will 
be  His.  This  is  the  supremest  reward  of  love,  and 
God  Himself  could  not  grant  a  greater. 

One  consideration  only  remains.  The  joys  of  heaven 
are  without  end.  "Never,  forever,  forever,  never," 
how  these  words  stir  the  very  depths  of  our  heart! 
Never  to  grieve,  forever  to  rejoice. 

"Let  us  so  strive  that  we  may  obtain  that  incor- 
ruptible crown." 


BISHOP    BRADLEY. 


Elsewhere  in  this  magazine  we  have  given  the  story 
of  the  life  and  death  of  our  good  Bishop.  Others  have 
given  many  beautiful,  touching,  and  just  tributes  to 
his  work  and  character,  and  now  it  devolves  upon  us 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  223 

to  pay  our  last  duty  of  love  and  gratitude  to  one  of 
our  dearest  friends  on  earth.  In  Bishop  Bradley  The 
Guidon  lost  its  truest  friend  and  warmest  supporter. 
This  magazine  was  his  creation.  All  that  it  has  accom- 
plished was  due  to  his  support,  encouragement,  and 
advice.  It  was  he  who  planted,  he  who  watered,  and 
if  God  gave  any  fruit  the  credit  is  due  wholly  to  him 
who  has  passed  away. 

The  diocese  of  Manchester  mourns  the  loss  of  a 
good  shepherd;  the  people  of  the  city,  a  devoted  pas- 
tor; the  state,  an  eminent  citizen;  the  poor,  a  friend; 
the  suffering-,  a  comforter;  the  bereaved,  a  consoler; 
the  doubtful,  a  counselor;  but  to  us  he  was  more  than 
all  this.  He  was  a  father  and  a  friend  in  the  highest, 
holiest  sense  the  terms  imply.  We  are  fully  aware 
that  an  editorial  notice  should  be  of  an  impersonal 
nature.  We  know  that  an  editor  is  supposed  to  be  a 
kind  of  intellectual  abstraction  and  not  a  creature  of 
flesh  and  blood  with  a  heart  and  soul  to  feel  and  grieve, 
but,  in  an  affliction  such  as  this,  it  is  hard  to  play  the 
part  and  conceal  entirely  one's  feelings.  It  is  not, 
however,  our  purpose  to  obtrude  here  our  personal 
loss,  nor  to  parade  our  sorrow  before  the  world  ;  it  is 
to  apologize,  rather,  if  in  the  course  of  this,  our  last 
tribute  to  the  beloved  dead,  these  feelings  should 
betray  themselves. 

Were  we  to  take  a  text  to  summarize  the  life  of 
Bishop  Bradley,  it  would  be  this:  "The  zeal  of  thy 
house  hath  eaten  me  up." 

Early  in  manhood  he  heard  the  call  of  God  to  His 
holy  service,  and,  prompt  as  any  Samuel,  he  answered 
the  summons.  From  that  day  to  the  day  of  his  death 
he  knew  no  other  object  in  life,  and  followed  no  other 
than  his  Divine  Master.  For  more  than  thirty-two 
years  he  labored  in  the  holy  ministry.  The  days  and 


224  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

the  weeks  were  all  too  short  to  satisfy  his  ardent 
zeal  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  souls. 
Many  a  time  during  these  last  two  years  when  his 
labors  had  made  grave  inroads  on  his  health,  he  was 
expostulated  with  by  well-meaning  friends,  and  urged 
to  take  a  well-earned  rest.  He  listened  patiently  to  all 
this  advice,  but,  once  to  a  friend  who  pressed  him 
with  more  than  usual  insistence,  he  betrayed  the  secret 
of  his  zeal:  "  When  I  was  ordained,"  said  he,  "  I  prom- 
ised God  to  do  all  that  in  me  lay  for  His  service,  and  I 
must  go  on  to  the  end." 

The  twenty  years  of  his  episcopate  were  full  of 
arduous  labors.  It  was  his  to  organize  a  new  diocese. 
The  field  was  vast.  Long  journeys  had  to  be  un- 
dertaken, and  conveniences  in  travel  were  not  then 
what  they  are  now.  All  over  the  State  of  New 
Hampshire  went  the  Bishop,  like  the  good  shepherd 
that  he  was,  seeking  the  stray  sheep  of  his  fold. 
Every  city,  town,  and  hamlet  knew  his  fostering  care. 
During  these  journeys  he  bore  all  kinds  of  hardships 
and  discomforts.  He  preached  many  times  in  the 
same  day,  often  driving  twenty  and  thirty  miles  over 
mountain  roads  between  mission  stations.  On  these 
visitations  no  fatigue  ever  caused  him  to  omit  long 
hours  in  the  confessional.  He  was  always  accessible 
to  the  humblest  in  the  parish,  and  it  was  one  of  the 
greatest  pleasures  of  these  poor  people  to  meet  the 
Bishop  on  these  yearly  rounds,  and  to  receive  his 
cordial  greetings.  No  man  in  the  State  had  so 
extended  and  varied  acquaintance,  and  no  one  followed 
with  such  interest  all  that  concerned  the  individual 
members  of  his  flock,  wherever  they  might  be.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  he  grew  into  their  affection. 

He    lived   to    see  the   population   of  his  diocese  in- 
crease almost   threefold,    and  the  number  of  priests 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  225 

multiply  in  the  same  ratio.  New  churches  sprung 
up  everywhere,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that,  to-day, 
there  is  not  a  portion  of  this  great  State  that  has 
not  been  provided  for  spiritually. 

But  it  was  the  people  of  Manchester  who  knew 
him  best.  To  the  stranger  coming  to  this  city  we 
may  say :  "You  seek  his  monument?  Look  around." 
Everything  speaks  of  him.  It  was  he  who  built  our 
beautiful  cathedral  and  chapel  of  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment. It  was  he  who  built  St.  Patrick's  Church  and 
the  Rosary  Chapel,  our  schools,  our  orphanages,  our 
hospitals,  our  asylum,  and  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
women,  and  children  he  built  that  other  temple,  not 
made  by  hands,  when  he  prepared  them  as  fit  dwelling 
places  for  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God, 

His  daily  life  was  full  of  work  and  prayer.  He 
always  rose  at  six,  no  matter  what  were  the  fatigues 
of  the  day  before.  His  morning  meditation  and  prayer 
over,  he  celebrated  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  at 
seven  o'clock.  The  people  of  the  parish  always 
esteemed  it  a  privilege  to  assist  at  the  Bishop's  Mass, 
and  almost  invariably,  even  on  a  week-day  morning, 
he  addressed  them  a  short  instruction  appropriate  to 
the  feast  or  the  season.  Mass  was  to  him  a  morning 
paradise.  Once,  during  the  last  few  months,  when 
asked  to  desist  from  so  taxing  a  duty,  he  said 
pathetically  :  "If  you  knew  what  the  Mass  is  to  me, 
you  would  not  ask  me." 

All  day  long  he  was  ready  to  receive  any  caller, 
and  his  threshold  was  worn  by  the  footsteps  of  the 
poor  and  the  unfortunate.  Patient,  indulgent,  sym- 
pathetic, he  listened  to  their  tales  and  relieved  their 
wants.  Hither  came  the  sick  and  the  infirm  to  ask 
his  blessing  and  to  seek  his  prayers.  Mothers 
brought  their  children  that  he  might  lay  his  hands 


226  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

upon  them,  so  great  was  the  veneration  in  which  he 
was  held.  The  institutions  about  the  city  looked  for 
his  daily  visit.  His  cheery  smile  and  encouraging- 
word  left  peace  and  sunshine  behind  him. 

As  the  beginning  of  his  day  was  spent  with  God, 
so  also  was  the  end  of  it.  The  little  chapel  of  the 
household  held  his  greatest  treasure,  Jesus  in  the 
Blessed  Eucharist.  Many  an  hour  he  passed  here, 
seeking  light  and  refreshment.  Though  we  knew 
the  hour  of  his  rising,  we  were  never  sure  of  the 
hour  of  his  retiring,  so  long  were  these  vigils  of 
prayer.  Once  a  priest  of  the  house  returning  from 
a  sick  call  after  midnight,  hastily  entering  the  chapel 
stumbled  over  the  Bishop,  kneeling  there  in  prayer. 

As  might  be  expected,  the  relations  betwen  the 
Bishop  and  his  priests  were  most  intimate  and  cordial. 
With  them  he  was  more  like  a  father  than  a  superior. 
Charity  and  forbearance  marked  all  his  dealings. 
Bishop  Bradley  never  had  a  case  of  contention  in  any 
ecclesiastical  court.  When  correction  or  reproof  was 
administered,  it  was  always  done  in  the  kindest, 
gentlest  manner,  and  the  one  admonished  never  bore 
resentment.  Severe  and  strict  for  himself,  he  was 
indulgent  to  others,  and  where  leniency  failed,  rather 
than  employ  the  authority  he  possessed  he  invoked 
God  most  earnestly  in  prayer  to  come  to  his  aid,  and 
in  several  instances  known  to  us,  God  did  intervene 
in  a  most  striking  manner.  No  bishop  was  ever  more 
beloved  by  his  priests.  No  guest  was  more  welcome 
than  he  in  their  homes.  His  intercourse  was  always 
affable;  his  conversation  easy  and  entertaining.  No 
man  ever  heard  him  say  an  unkind  or  uncharitable 
word  of  another,  and  he  was  always  ready  to  take  the 
defense  of  the  timid,  the  weak,  or  the  unfortunate. 
He,  in  turn,  held  in  high  esteem  the  priests  of  his  dio- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  227 

cese.  To  him  they  were  the  best  priests  in  the  world; 
they  were  to  him  a  source  of  pride  and  joy,  and  he 
loved  every  one  of  them  to  the  least  and  last  with  the 
tenderness  of  a  fond  father.  Nothing  they  did  or 
undertook  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him.  He 
shared  their  joys  and  sorrows.  Who  was  in  want 
that  he  did  not  feel  it?  Who  was  scandalized  and  he 
was  not  on  fire?  During  the  course  of  the  twenty  years 
he  presided  over  the  diocese  the  priests  gave  him 
many  marks  of  appreciation  and  esteem,  but  none 
was  more  noticeable  or  sincere  than  the  genuine  grief 
manifested  when  they  learned  that  he,  their  Bishop, 
was  no  more.  His  memory  will  be  ever  to  them  a 
source  of  edification  and  inspiration. 

Loved  as  he  was  by  his  priests,  he  was  loved  and 
revered  more,  were  it  possible,  by  the  religious  women 
under  his  charge.  Between  him  and  them  was  a  del- 
icate, holy  bond  which  united  both  closer  to  God.  None 
better  than  they  knew  the  higher  spiritual  side  of  his 
nature,  for  he  it  was  who  led  them  along  the  steep 
road  to  perfection.  The  sorrow  these  devoted  souls 
felt  for  the  loss  of  their  spiritual  father  was  tem- 
pered only  by  the  assurance  that  he  will  continue  to 
watch  over  them  from  his  high  place  in  heaven. 

In  his  dealings  with  people  in  general,  Bishop 
Bradley  was  "all  things  to  all  men,"  that  he  might 
win  all  to  God.  He  remembered  names  and  faces, 
and  never  forgot  family  concerns.  Though  always 
dignified  and  reserved,  he  always  made  one  feel  at 
ease  in  his  presence,  and  inspired  confidence  with- 
out fear.  Even  those  who  came  in  daily  contact  with 
him,  chose  him  for  their  confessor,  and  the  biggest 
sinner,  as  well  as  the  timidest  child,  felt  no  hesitation 
in  approaching  him  in  the  sacred  tribunal  of  penance. 


228  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

Such  was  the  life  of  our  good  Bishop  before  men. 
But  there  was  another  that  he  lived  before  God,  an  in- 
terior life  which,  strive  as  he  might,  he  could  not  wholly 
conceal.  His  union  with  God  shone  on  his  very  face, 
and  impressed  people  who  met  him  for  the  first  time. 
This  became  more  and  more  marked  as  the  end  ap- 
proached. Was  it  because  heaven  was  nearer?  His 
faith  was  as  simple  as  that  of  a  child.  In  all  the  prac- 
tices of  religion  he  was  as  humble  as  the  humblest, 
If  we  would  single  out  any  of  his  particular  devotions 
it  would  be  that  of  the  Blessed  Eucharist  and  that  of 
the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus.  During  all  his  priestly  life 
he  never  omitted  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  when 
he  was  able  to  perform  it.  During  his  last  sickness  he 
received  holy  communion  every  day,  and  the  last  time 
was  only  a  few  hours  before  his  soul  passed  away.  We 
might  cite  many  instances  of  his  love  and  reverence  for 
our  Eucharistic  Saviour,  but  it  would  lead  too  far.  We 
will,  however,  give  one  such,  to  show  his  anxiety  to 
avoid  even  the  least  disrespect  to  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment. Once,  while  giving  the  children  their  first  Holy 
Communion  in  a  country  parish,  a  little  girl  was  so 
frightened  as  to  be  unable  to  swallow  the  Sacred  Parti- 
cle placed  upon  her  tongue.  The  Bishop  waited  pa- 
tiently a  few  minutes,  spoke  kindly  to  her,  and  urged 
her  to  try  to  swallow.  It  was  no  use.  The  little  one 
was  as  if  paralyzed,  and  the  Sacred  Host  remained, 
satuated  with  saliva,  in  her  mouth.  Seeing  the  plight 
of  the  child,  and  fearing  any  irreverence  would  occur, 
the  Bishop  took  the  Host  from  the  child's  mouth,  put  it 
into  his  own,  swallowed  it,  and  passed  on. 

It  was  his  care  to  establish  in  every  parish  of  the 
diocese,  the  League  of  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus. 
When  at  home  he  invariably  gave  the  First  Friday 
instruction  and  explained  the  intention  of  the  monthly 
prayer.  More  than  once,  the  person  who  sorted  the 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  229 

petitions  for  prayer,  dropped  into  the  box  at  the  foot 
of  the  statue  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  found  simple  and 
heartfelt  petitions  in  the  handwriting-  of  the  Bishop. 

Like  all  great  servants  of  God,  the  Bishop  cared 
nothing-  for  the  g-oods  of  this  world.  His  treasure 
was  in  heaven.  At  his  death  he  left  nothing-.  He 
kept  only  one  bank  account,  and  that  was  in  the 
name  of  the  "Roman  Catholic  Bishop  of  Manchester," 
the  leg-al  title  of  his  office,  so  that  his  successor  has 
but  to  sign  his  name  and  he  inherits  all  that  the 
Bishop  possessed.  During-  all  the  years  he  acted  as 
pastor  of  the  Cathedral  parish  he  drew  no  salary, 
and  all  he  asked  was  that  the  parish  pay  his  funeral 
expenses.  The  collection  of  Christmas  day  was  taken 
up  for  that  purpose.  A  small  amount  of  insurance 
was  divided  between  two  orphan  nieces  of  the  Bishop 
and  the  charitable  institutions  of  the  city. 

His  death  is  described  elsewhere.  He  died  as  he 
lived,  at  peace  with  God  and  man,  with  the  full  as- 
surance of  a  blessed  immortality. 

We  will  not  try  to  estimate  the  value  of  such  a  life. 
We  do  not  dare  to  calculate  our  loss.  We  only  bow 
in  humble  submission  to  the  Holy  Will  of  God,  and 
thank  Him  fervently  for  having-  given  us  so  good,  so 
true,  so  holy  a  man  as  Bishop  Bradley. 

Necessarily  the  qualities  that  made  Father  Delany 
succeed  in  the  discharge  of  these  various  and  diverse 
duties  commended  him  also  to  his  superior.  He  thus 
came  to  be  not  only  Bishop  Bradley's  secretary,  but 
his  confidential  friend  and  adviser.  The  plans,  the 
hopes,  the  fears,  the  sorrows  of  his  superior, — all 
these  Father  Delany  shared,  but  so  truly  loyal  was 
he  to  the  trust  reposed  in  him  that  even  his  best 
friends  hardly  g-uessed  the  close  relationship  between 


230  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

the  two.  He  often  accompanied  the  Bishop  on  his 
travels,  and  frequently  represented  him  on  public 
occasions.  His  duties  as  chancellor,  too,  which  brought 
him  into  intimate  relations  with  the  pastors  through- 
out the  State,  were  always  so  admirably  performed 
as  to  command  the  respect  of  both  Bishop  and  priests. 
Thus  widely  known  and  esteemed,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  on  the  death  of  Bishop  Bradley  in  December, 
1903,  Father  Delany  was  prominently  mentioned  for 
elevation  to  the  vacant  see,  nor  did  the  announcement 
come  as  a  surprise  that  on  the  priests'  list  of  candi- 
dates John  B.  Delany  was  marked  dignissimus.  At 
the  turna  of  the  New  England  Bishops,  held  some 
weeks  later,  there  was  read  to  them  a  letter,  written 
by  Bishop  Bradley  months  before  his  death,  naming 
Father  Delany  as  one  of  the  three  priests  whom  he 
would  recommend  as  his  successor.  Further  com- 
mendation was  unnecessary. 


FATHER  DELANY'S  VALEDICTORY. 

The  September  issue  of  The  Guidon,  of  which 
Father  Delany  was  editor  up  to  the  time  of  his  ap- 
pointment as  Bishop,  contained  a  beautiful  "Editorial 
Valedictory"  as  the  reverend  editor  laid  down  his 
pen  to  take  up  the  more  important  duties  of  Bishop 
of  the  New  Hampshire  diocese. 

It  read  as  follows: 

"With  this  number  the  editor  of  The  Guidon  lays 
down  his  pen  and  takes  up  the  episcopal  staff;  he 
severs  his  official  connection  with  this  magazine  and 
assumes  the  government  of  the  diocese  of  Man- 
chester. In  so  doing  he  feels  he  should  say  a  word 
by  way  of  valedictory  to  the  readers  of  The  Guidon, 
with  whom  he  has  been  associated  so  long  and  for 
whom  he  has  the  tenderest  regard. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  231 

"Six  years  ago  the  publication  of  this  magazine 
was  begun  at  the  instigation  of  the  late  beloved 
Bishop  Bradley.  Our  capital  at  the  time  might  be 
summed  up  thus:  An  abundance  of  good  will,  a  de- 
sire to  fill  a  long-felt  want,  what  little  aptitude  the 
Lord  gave  us  for  the  work,  and  a  confidence  born  of 
inexperience.  These  were  not  very  tangible  assets, 
but,  God  helping,  they  have  realized  something  in  the 
end. 

"During  these  years  there  have  been  work  and 
worry.  The  road  of  Catholic  journalism,  like  the 
road  to  Jordan,  is  a  hard  road  to  travel,  and  in  our 
six  years  we  have  seen  not  a  few  of  our  fellow- 
travelers  fall  by  the  wayside.  Yet  withal  ours  has 
not  been  an  unpleasing  experience.  There  was  never 
a  kinder  master  nor  a  more  appreciative  one  than 
our  dear  departed  Bishop.  We  labored  under  his  eye 
and  his  direction,  and  our  least  effort  was  es- 
teemed a  personal  favor.  He  consoled  us  in  our 
trials,  he  encouraged  us  in  our  disappointments,  he 
was  ever  ready  to  listen  to  our  plans  and  to  suggest 
ones  of  his  own.  His  ripe  judgment  and  broad 
charity  shed  light  on  the  subjects  we  treated,  and 
his  far-seeing  wisdom  saved  us  from  many  a  pitfall. 
His  ever-ready  generosity  came  more  than  once  to 
our  aid  when  we  had  grim  visions  of  the  sheriff's 
visit. 

"Our  dealings  with  the  priests  of  the  diocese  have 
been  exceedingly  pleasant.  They  realized  from  the 
beginning  that  The  Guidon  was  undertaken  for  the 
general  good  and  not  for  any  personal  or  pecuniary 
purpose;  that  it  was  the  institution  of  the  Bishop 
himself;  and  they  have  given  it  their  cordial  support. 
They  allowed  us  the  use  of  their  pulpits  to  introduce 
it  to  their  people,  and  often  served  as  our  voluntary 


232  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

agents  without  pay  or  reward.  Many  a  time  since 
has  their  patience  *t>een  taxed  by  ourselves  and  our 
patrons,  but  they  have  been  charitable  and  indulgent. 
After  four  years'  existence  and  single-handed  en- 
deavor The  Guidon  was  turned  over  to  the  manage- 
ment of  a  body  composed  of  the  clergy,  who  formed 
a  corporation  for  the  purpose,  thus  rendering  the 
work  entirely  diocesan.  It  might  be  said  here  that 
most  of  the  stock  subscribed  was  transferred  to  the 
charitable  institutions  of  the  State,  thus  giving  these 
what  profits  might  accrue. 

"Our  relations  with  the  patrons  of  The  Guidon  have 
been  intimate  and  affectionate.  During  all  these  years 
from  month  to  month  we  have  tried  to  instruct  and 
edify.  From  the  pulpit  of  the  editor's  chair  we  have 
addressed  an  invisible  audience.  We  have  never  looked 
into  each  other's  faces,  but  we  have  talked  heart  to 
heart.  No  editor  ever  had  a  more  indulgent  clientele. 
When  we  taught,  you  learned;  when  we  approved,  you 
responded;  when  we  reproved,  you  accepted;  and  when 
we  condemned,  you  acquiesced. 

"The  editing  of  a  religious  paper  had  its  many  dis- 
advantages. We  preach  doctrine  and  morality,  but  if 
there  ever  was  a  case  of  '  casting  bread  upon  the 
waters'  it  is  just  here.  Again  and  again  the  editor 
questions  himself  :  Who  will  read  it?  What  good  will 
it  do?  Is  it  not  lost  after  all?  The  effect  of  his  preach- 
ing is  always  remote.  He  knows  not,  and  may  never 
know,  the  souls  he  has  influenced  for  good.  Yet  such 
consolation  was  not  always  denied  us.  Many  a  time, 
when  discouragement  assailed  us,  some  little  word 
reached  us,  like  a  sweet-scented  summer  breeze,  to 
tell  us  of  good  accomplished  for  a  weary-laden  soul, 
and  that,  too,  in  most  unexpected  places.  More  than 
once  God  seemed  to  make  our  little  publication  the 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  233 

vehicle  of  faith  to  some  one  who  had  sat  in  darkness 
and  in  the  shadow  of  death.  More  than  once  were 
the  words  we  spoke  just  what  some  poor  anguished 
soul  sought  for.  Surely  with  such  visible  rewards 
as  these  no  man  would  grudge  the  pains  his  work 
entails. 

"The  secular  press  of  this  and  neighboring  States 
has  been  uniformly  kind  and  courteous.  The  daily 
papers  have  given  us  ample  space  in  their  columns. 
They  have  treated  our  opinions  with  deference  and 
respect,  and  have  often  lent  their  aid  to  our  claims  of 
right  and  justice.  The  editor  feels  that  he  cannot  lay 
down  his  pen  without  expressing  to  these  gentlemen 
of  the  press  his  appreciation  of  their  kindness  to  him- 
self and  The  Guidon. 

"It  has  been  said  that  if  St.  Paul  came  back  to 
earth  in  these,  our  days,  he  would  be  a  newspaper 
man.  And  it  is  not  unlikely.  Any  one  who  knows 
the  power  of  the  press  will  realize  that  the  Apostle 
of  the  Gentiles  would  not  neglect  so  mighty  a  means 
for  good.  In  the  case  of  your  editor  things  have  been 
reversed.  Instead  of  the  Apostle  becoming  the  news- 
paper man,  the  newspaper  man  becomes  the  apostle, 
for  such  is  the  Bishop  of  your  church,  and  that,  too,  by 
the  design  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  But  be  assured  that  his 
interest  in  The  Guidon  and  its  readers  does  not  cease 
with  the  change.  It  is  his  hope  that  the  magazine  will 
continue  its  good  work,  that  its  sphere  of  usefulness 
will  be  enlarged,  and  that  its  life  will  be  long  perpet- 
uated. To  you,  dear  readers,  I  am  no  longer  your 
editor,  but  I  am  your  Bishop,  the  shepherd  of  your 
souls,  placed  by  Almighty  God  at  the  head  of  the 
flock  to  guard  and  to  guide.  With  God's  holy  grace, 
I  shall  speak  to  you  often  through  these  familar  col- 


234  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

umns.  I  know  you  will  barken  to  my  voice.  And  now, 
for  my  leave-taking,  I  impart  to  you,  one  and  all,  my 
episcopal  benediction, 

"JOHN  B.  DELANY, 

Bishop-Elect  of  Manchester." 


EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS. 

THE   BLESSING  OF   BELLS. 

We  give  the  bells  a  holy  name  to  put  them  under  the 
protection  of  the  saints,  those  powerful  friends  of  God. 
These  bells  have  been  called  by  the  names  of  the  Holy 
Family,  Jesus,  Mary,  and  Joseph,  and  what  patron  in  all 
heaven  can  compare  to  these.  The  gospel  is  sung-  to 
indicate  that  hereafter  the  brazen  tongue  shall  recall  its 
holy  precepts. 

We  pray  that  at  the  ringing  of  these  consecrated 
bells  God  may  protect  His  people  from  the  lightning 
and  the  storm,  from  the  power  of  evil  spirits,  from 
temptation  and  sin,  that  God  will  preserve  them  in  the 
fervor  and  practice  of  their  blessed  faith. 

Who  but  the  unbeliever  will  deny  efficacy  to  the 
prayers  of  the  Church?  God's  Providence  rules  all 
creation,  spiritual  and  natural.  He  created  all  things 
and  keeps  all  things  in  existence.  Ah,  my  friends, 
God  does  marvelous  things,  and  does  them  with  divine 
simplicity. 

He  said,  "let  there  be  light,"  and  there  was  light.  Our 
Saviour  commanded  the  sea  to  be  still  and  there  came  a 
great  calm.  By  a  word  He  cast  out  evil  spirits.  By  a 
word,  as  is  recited  in  the  gospel  of  this  ceremony, 
He  called  Lazarus  back  to  life  when  he  had  been  four 
days  in  the  tomb.  So  much  of  His  power  did  he  mani- 
fest through  articulate  speech.  Nay,  He  even  went 
farther.  To  His  apostles  and  to  His  priests,  through 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  235 

the  words  of  their  mouth,  He  seems  to  have  exhausted 
His  omnipotence.  He  gave  to  them  by  the  power  of  a 
word  to  forgive  sins  in  His  holy  name  to  bring  Him 
back  to  earth  again,  in  the  second  incarnation. 

Nor  has  God  despised  the  inarticulate  sound.  It,  too, 
is  His  creature.  We  have  all  experienced  the  mys- 
terious influence  with  which  He  has  endowed  the  song 
of  the  birds,  the  rippling  of  the  waters,  the  rustling  of 
the  leaves,  the  whispering  of  the  breeze,  diapason  of 
Niagara,  the  thunder  of  the  storm,  the  roaring  of  the 
sea.  We  know  the  mysterious  stirrings  of  the  heart, 
the  keen  emotion  and  strange  yearnings  excited  in  us 
by  God's  marvelous  gift  of  music,  that  would  seem  to 
have  escaped  from  some  higher  sphere  and  be  the  sym- 
phony of  eternal  harmony,  the  echo  of  our  heavenly 
home,  the  voice  of  angels  or  the  magnificat  of  saints. 
Hence,  the  Church  employs  this  inarticulate  voice  in 
her  service  to  excite  us  to  more  fervent  devotion. 

But  it  has  pleased  Almighty  God  to  employ  inarticu- 
late sound  in  especially  marvelous  ways.  We  read  in 
holy  scripture  that,  "When  Saul  was  troubled  with  an 
evil  spirit  David  took  his  harp  and  played  with  his  hand 
and  Saul  was  refreshed  and  was  better  for  the  evil 
spirit  departed  from  him." 

And-we  are  reminded  by  the  prayer  of  the  Bishop 
consecrating  the  bell,  of  the  extraordinary  victory  over 
their  enemies  which  the  Lord  pleased  to  give  to  His 
chosen  people  by  the  sounding  of  the  trumpets  of  the 
priests  around  the  walls  of  Jericho.  It  was  not  by  arms 
but  by  the  sounding  of  the  trumpets  that  the  walls  of 
the  city  fell  when  they  had  been  compassed  seven 
times. 

Who,  then,  will  say  that  these  bells,  blessed  and 
anointed  by  the  prayer  of  Holy  Church,  shall  not  have  a 
sacred  power? 


236  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

I  have  said  this  is  an  occasion  of  singular  suggestive- 
ness.  And  so  it  is.  It  carries  us  back  to  the  distant 
past;  it  speaks  to  the  living  present;  it  has  a  solemn 
word  for  the  future.  As  we  look  at  these  silent  bells, 
ready  to  begin  their  holy  mission,  our  minds  revert  to 
bells  of  childhood  and  the  sweet  influence  they  wrought 
in  our  tender  years.  They  are  forever  associated  in 
our  minds  with  the  altar  and  the  Mass.  Their  sweet 
cadence  dwells  within  our  memory,  like  the  songs  of 
God's  angels,  too  sweet  for  mortal  ears. 

If  I  will  be  pardoned  a  personal  allusion,  I  might  tell 
you  the  sweet  message  the  bells  brought  me,  when 
years  ago,  in  a  foreign  land,  I  heard  the  chimes  of  the 
Bayeux  cathedral  ring  out  its  midnight  song.  It  was 
the  familiar  strophe  of  Mendelssohn's  oratorio,  this 
sweet  assurance,  as  it  were,  from  heaven:  "Who 
watches  over  Israel  slumbers  not  nor  sleeps." 

But  far  beyond  our  earliest  memory  the  Christian 
mind  loves  to  wander.  We  see  the  village  spire,  the 
cathedral  tower,  the  campanile;  we  hear  the  Angelus 
sounding  over  Europe.  We  hear  the  joyous  Christmas 
bells  telling  the  tidings  of  good  joy;  we  hear  the  Alle- 
luias of  the  Easter  bells;  we  hear  the  bells  celebrating 
Christian  marriage,  and  its  solemn  tolling  for  a  soul 
that  is  passing  to  God.  The  bells  ring  out  the  praises 
of  God  everywhere,  and  everywhere  a  faithful  people 
bow  in  reverent  prayer.  Truly  is  the  bell  the  voice  of 
the  Church.  While  there  are  evidences  of  the  use  of 
small  bells  in  pre-Christian  times,  it  is  admitted  that 
the  marvelously  formed  and  proportioned  church  bell  is 
of  ecclesiastical  origin.  To  Paulinus  of  Nola,  who  lived 
about  the  year  400,  is  ascribed  the  first  use  of  the  bell 
for  church  purposes.  Its  appearance  at  that  time 
seems,  indeed,  providential.  The  era  of  persecution 
was  just  past.  The  Church  had  begun  her  work  in 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  237 

the  open  light  of  day.  Previously,  her  retreat  was  in 
the  ground  like  that  of  a  hunted  animal,  but  now  she 
comes  forth  full  of  life  and  joy  and  energy.  She  makes 
her  bells  and  blesses  them  and  sets  them  ringing- 
praises.  She  calls  believers  and  unbelievers  to  Him; 
she  invokes  His  blessing-  and  protection  upon  all. 


MILITARY  MASS. 

The  ceremony  took  place  in  St.  Joseph's  Cemetery 
in  West  Manchester,  and  the  Rev.  Fr.  J.  B.  Delany 
was  the  celebrant.  Following  the  exercises,  the 
members  of  the  G.  A.  R.  and  the  younger  veterans 
joined  forces,  and  the  213  graves  of  the  soldiers  of 
two  wars  were  marked  with  the  customary  wreath 
surrounding  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 

At  the  cemetery  a  temporary  altar  had  been  erected 
on  the  steps  of  the  chapel,  and  the  military  compan- 
ies, with  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  formed  a  square 
directly  in  front,  while  the  veterans  of  both  the  G. 
A.  R.  posts  and  the  Spanish-American  War  Veterans 
formed  in  line  on  the  inside.  The  military  Mass, 
according  to  the  ritual  of  the  Catholic  Church,  was 
celebrated  by  Fr.  Delany,  and  the  National  Guards- 
men fired  the  usual  salutes.  The  following  is  the 
address  delivered  by  Fr.  Delany,  who,  speaking  in  a 
clear,  distinct  voice,  was  heard  by  the  hundreds 
that  surrounded  the  military  square: 

"Making  a  gathering,  he  sent  12,000  drachms  of 
silver  to  Jerusalem  for  sacrifice  to  be  offered  for  the 
sins  of  the  dead,  thinking  well  and  religiously  con- 
cerning the  resurrection." — II.  Machabees,  xii.,  43. 

These  words  were  spoken  of  Judas  Machabeus, 
that  valiant  soldier  of  the  Jewish  nation  who  fought 
so  well  the  battles  of  God's  chosen  people.  Victory 


238  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

bad  crowned  his  effort;  his  cause  had  triumphed,  and 
the  joyous  shout  of  the  people  had  hailed  him  as 
their  saviour.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  acclaim  the 
mind  of  the  leader  turned  to  those  who  fell  in  battle. 
Their  eyes  were  closed,  they  saw  not  the  wreath  of 
victory  that  graced  his  brow;  their  ears  were  deaf  to 
the  voice  of  praises;  stark  and  stiff  they  lay  upon 
the  bloody  field  with  their  blanched  faces  turned 
toward  the  sky  or  buried  in  the  dust.  The  noble 
heart  of  Judas  was  moved ;  he  could  not  share  with 
them  the  joys  of  victory  won,  but  there  was  one 
duty  he  could  do,  there  was  one  office  he  might  per- 
form. "Making-  a  gathering-,  he  sent  12,000  drachms 
of  silver  to  Jerusalem  for  a  sacrifice"  to  be  offered 
for  their  souls  that  God  might  pardon  whatever 
offenses  they  were  guilty  of  and  admit  them  to  His 
blessed  presence  for  ever. 

In  like  manner  you  soldiers  have  come  here  to-day 
to  pay  your  tribute  of  love  and  prayer  to  your  de- 
parted brethren  and  to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  God  in 
their  behalf.  It  is  the  unbloody  sacrifice  of  the 
Mass,  offered  for  those  who  fought  and  died  by  your 
side  in  defence  of  the  honor  of  our  country. 

Other  days  may  have  their  glory,  but  this  day,  of 
all  civic  days,  is  the  tenderest  and  holiest.  With 
reverent  care  you  come  to  the  last  resting-place  of 
these  heroic  dead  to  mark  the  green  sward  that  lies 
over  them  with  the  tiny  flag  they  loved  so  well  and 
place  the  offering  of  Spring  upon  their  graves  to 
show  the  world  that  the  memory  of  their  deeds  is 
ever  fresh  and  beautiful.  It  is  a  day  of  tender  recol- 
lection. In  the  quiet  of  the  graveyard  the  clash  of 
arms  is  stilled,  the  roar  of  the  guns  is  hushed,  the 
groans  of  the  dying  unheard.  It  is  the  beginning 
and  the  end  we  think  of  to-day,  and  we  willingly  for- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  239 

get  all  the  horrors  that  lie  between.  The  day  of 
their  departure  arises  before  our  mind.  There  was 
the  tender  farewell,  the  striving-  to  keep  down  emo- 
tion, the  tear  hastily  brushed  away;  then  a  wave  of 
the  hand,  a  turn  of  the  road,  and  our  soldier  boy  is 
gone — for  ever. 

"Brave  as  the  bravest  he  marched  away, 
(Hot  tears  on  the  cheek  of  his  mother  lay), 
Triumphant  waved  our  flag1  one  day, 

He  fell  in  the  front  before  it." 
************ 

"A  grave  in  the  woods  with  the  grass  o'ergrown, 

A  grave  in  the  heart  of  his  mother. 
His  clay  in  the  one  lies  lifeless  and  lone; 

There  is  not  a  name,  there  is  not  a  stone, 
And  only  the  voice  of  the  wind  maketh  moan 

O'er  the  grave  where  never  a  flower  is  strewn, 
But  his  memory  lives  in  the  other." 

Twice  in  our  generation  has  sounded  the  call  to 
arms.  Twice  have  our  fathers,  sons  and  brothers 
answered.  To  the  younger  of  us  the  Civil  War  is 
not  even  a  memory,  yet  we  have  lived  near  enough 
to  those  stirring  days  to  know  what  it  meant  to  our 
nation.  We  have  heard  the  ghastly  tale  of  those 
hundreds  of  thousands  slain  on  the  fields  of  the  South 
to  save  the  integrity  of  our  country.  The  cost  was 
great,  but  in  blood  we  wiped  out  from  our  land  the 
black  stain  of  slavery.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that 
we  honor  the  memory  of  those  who  paid  the  price, 
and  we,  the  heirs  of  freedom,  gratefully  acknowledge 
our  debt  of  gratitude?  To  the  honored  dead  we  give 
the  tribute  of  our  praise  and  the  offering  of  a  heart- 
felt prayer.  Of  the  living  war-scarred  veterans  of 
those  earlier  days  we  say  with  all  truth,  "We  prize 
even  the  bits." 

Patriotism  is  not  dead.  You  veterans  who  stand 
here  to-day  need  but  look  about  you  for  the  proof  of 


240  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

it.  The  cause  for  which  you  fought  and  bled,  the 
honor  of  our  country,  the  claims  of  humanity,  were 
vindicated  by  those  later  veterans  who  stand  around 
you  to-day.  The  dastardly  deed  that  blew  up  the 
battleship  Maine  in  the  harbor  of  Havana,  not  less 
than  the  guns  that  were  fired  on  Sumter,  woke  the 
nation,  not  to  vengeance,  but  to  justice.  And  the 
youth  of  this  generation  that  took  your  place  in  the 
ranks  of  soldier  defenders  yielded  not  a  jot  or  a 
tittle  to  their  patriotic  sires. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  be  in  the  national 
capital  on  the  occasion  of  the  declaration  of  war. 
The  scene  that  attended  this  was  by  no  means  such 
as  my  boyhood  had  fancied  would  accompany  so  im- 
portant a  crisis.  Excitement  there  was,  but  most  of 
it  was  confined  to  the  newspapers.  Deliberation  and 
determination  were  the  characteristics  that  marked 
the  scene.  Did  this  mean  lack  of  patriotism,  want 
of  courage,  or  disregard  for  right  and  justice?  By 
no  means.  It  meant  the  possession  of  all  of  these 
virtues  in  the  highest  degree.  It  meant  that  when  a 
decision  was  reached  it  would  be  such  a  one  as  God 
would  approve,  that  the  nations  of  the  world  would 
justify,  and  that  the  people  of  our  country  would 
sanction  without  reserve. 

Returning  north  through  ten  states,  I  found  on 
every  hand  that  other  kind  of  patriotism  that  seeks 
expression  by  love  for  the  flag,  and  readiness  to  fight 
and  die  for  the  cause  it  represents.  It  was  not  in 
the  crowded  cities  that  it  found  its  most  touching 
expression,  but  in  the  little  towns  and  villages  of 
our  own  state  where  every  humble  home  on  the  hill- 
sides and  in  the  valleys  had  its  Stars  and  Stripes 
waving  proudly  there.  From  homes  like  these  went 
forth  our  sons.  The  mother  of  the  Horatii  gave  her 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  241 

three  sons  to  do  battle  for  their  country,  and  her 
example  has  been  held  up  to  the  admiration  of  the 
world  ever  since.  On  the  camp  ground  at  Concord, 
when  the  New  Hampshire  regiment  left  for  the 
front,  one  of  your  mothers  knelt  there  on  the  sod  to 
ask  God's  blessing-  on  her  four  sons,  all  she  had, 
brave  soldier  boys,  who  answered  the  first  call  of 
their  country.  Is  not  this  as  illustrious  an  example 
as  the  pagan  nations  of  old  could  furnish  ?  This  is 
Christian  patriotism,  too,  and  the  country  that  can 
inspire  such  patriotism  is  safe. 

Many  of  you,  enlisted  at  duty's  call,  were  not 
destined  to  face  the  bullets  of  the  enemy.  You  had 
a  more  terrible  foe  to  encounter.  It  was  the  fever 
and  gaunt  death  that  stalked  abroad  at  Chickamauga 
that  slew  hundreds  and  thousands  of  your  number. 
Again  it  was  my  lot  to  meet  you  on  that  awful 
journey  home.  Never  will  I  forget  that  ghastly 
train,  with  its  freight  of  living-  death,  of  fever-ridden 
victims,  helpless  and  dying-,  the  wrecks  of  humanity 
returned  to  us  in  place  of  the  stalwart  youth  that 
we  sent  forth. 

No  braver  hearts  ever  faced  the  fire  of  an  enemy 
than  those  that  waited  patiently  and  dutifully  where 
death  came  in  this  hideous  form.  To  them,  as  to 
the  rest,  is  due  honor  and  praise  for  "they  serve 
who  only  stand  and  wait."  On  our  soldiers'  and 
sailors'  monument  we  have  inscribed  the  text  :  "Dulce 
et  Decorum  Pro  Patria  Mori."  "It  is  sweet  and 
honorable  to  die  for  one's  country."  And  it  is  all 
true.  I  would  add,  it  is  far  harder  to  live  and  suffer 
for  one's  country,  and  consequently  more  honorable 
and  praiseworthy.  This  is  your  title  to  reward. 

Do  we  grudge  the  price  we  paid  ?  No.  Another 
republic  has  been  added  to  the  nations  of  the  world 


242  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

and  the  flag  of  Cuba  now  waves  above  a  free  people, 
made  so  by  our  instrumentality.  Cuba  is  a  Catholic 
republic.  As  long  as  she  is  faithful  to  Catholic 
principles,  so  long  will  she  abide.  Pagans  knew  not 
freedom  nor  the  principles  of  democracy.  It  was  St. 
Thomas,  the  greatest  doctor  of  the  church,  who 
declared  that  democracy,  a  government  of  the  people 
was  the  most  perfect  form  of  human  government. 

Your  battles  are  over,  and,  please  God,  not  again 
in  our  generation  will  you  be  called  upon  to  give  the 
supremest  proof  of  love  for  your  country  that  a  man 
can  give  to  defend  it  with  your  life.  May  God  give 
you  many  years  to  serve  your  country  and  enjoy  the 
blessings  you  and  your  heroic  dead  have  striven  so 
manfully  to  maintain.  Be  loyal  to  the  dead.  To  the 
voice  of  praise  add  the  voice  of  prayer.  'Tis  the 
noblest  tribute  Christian  souls  can  give  to  their  dear 
departed  ones.  Thus  live  as  good  soldiers  and  when 
your  time  comes  to  lay  down  your  arms  you  can  say, 
with  all  confidence  :  "I  have  fought  the  good  fight ;  I 
have  finished  my  course  ;  I  have  kept  the  faith.  As 
to  the  rest  there  is  a  crown  of  justice,  which  the 
Lord,  the  just  judge,  will  render  to  me  in  that  day, 
and  not  only  to  me,  but  to  them  also  that  love  His 
coming." 


ADDRESS  GIVEN  IN  LOWELL  BEFORE  THE  UNITED 
IRISH  LEAGUE,  1902. 

It  was  not  my  intention  to  make  a  speech.  I  con- 
sented to  come  only  on  condition  that  a  few  remarks 
from  me  would  be  all  that  was  expected.  To  such 
an  invitation  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  respond.  It  is  your 
purpose  to  unite  for  the  cause  of  justice  and  strive 
by  all  legitimate  means  to  obtain  fair  play  and  just 
treatment  for  the  land  of  your  birth  or  the  land  of 
your  ancestors. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  243 

That  such  a  movement  as  the  United  Irish  League 
is  timely  and  just  you  have  but  to  look  to  the  other 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  For  a  few  years  back  Ireland 
has  been  comparatively  free  from  persecution  and 
oppression,  but  within  a  few  months  new  measures 
of  tyranny  have  been  devised  and  a  perfidious  coer- 
cion law  has  been  proclaimed.  Is  it  because  of  re- 
bellion or  disorder  there?  By  no  means.  There  is 
neither  rebellion  nor  disorder.  Ireland,  above  all  the 
countries  of  the  world,  is  a  crimeless  land,  and  the 
only  object  such  laws  can  have  is  to  provoke  crime,  to 
incite  to  bloodshed  if  possible,  and  to  furnish  a  pretext 
for  the  unspeakable  cruelty  that  England's  hireling's 
have  exercised  over  Ireland  in  the  days  gone  by. 

After  a  war  of  two  years  and  a  half  outnumbering 
her  adversaries  ten  to  one,  beaten  at  every  turn,  her 
ablest  generals  acquitting  themselves  hardly  better 
than  corporals  of  the  home  guard,  England  gave  theBoers 
peace  at  their  own  terms  and  paid  for  it  with  100,000 
men  and  a  thousand  million  dollars.  It  was,  forsooth, 
a  famous  victory.  All  London  went  wild  with  joy. 
Kitchener  was  voted  a  pension  and  a  medal  —  it 
should  be  a  leather  one,  for  it  lasts — and  in  a  few 
days  the  King  will  be  crowned  with  his  realm  at 
peace. 

There  is  only  one  discordant  note.  A  gallant 
soldier  who  has  fought  nobly  in  the  cause  of  liberty 
for  the  Boers  was  honored  by  the  electors  of  Galway 
by  being  named  for  a  place  in  Parliament.  The  war 
being  over,  he  claims  the  amnesty  granted  to  those  who 
bore  arms,  but  as  soon  as  he  sets  foot  upon  British  soil 
he  is  cast  into  prison.  He  made  a  mistake.  The  am- 
nesty granted  to  the  Boer,  the  Dutch,  the  French,  the 
American,  the  African  negro,  was  never  given  to  an 
Irishman.  High  treason  is  the  charge,  and  he  is  in 


244  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

danger  of  his  life.  The  charge  is  false.  He  is 
guilty  of  no  treason.  A  man  may  be  born  in  a 
stable,  but  that  does  not  make  him  a  horse,  much 
less  an  ass.  An  Irishman  born  under  the  British 
flag  is  not  a  subject  of  England,  let  the  laws  say 
what  they  will. 

Ireland  is  ever  at  war  with  England  and  it  is  no 
treason  for  an  Irishman  to  take  up  arms  against  her 
in  whatsoever  quarter  of  the  world  the  occasion  may 
present  itself.  Col.  Lynch  is  a  soldier,  and  a  patriot, 
but  not  a  traitor,  any  more  than  was  Robert  Emmet, 
though  like  Emmet  he  may  die  on  a  scaffold. 

But  it  will  be  asked,  what  do  you  expect  to  accom- 
plish, what  can  a  league  such  as  this  do  to  alleviate 
the  sufferings  of  the  Irish  and  right  the  wrongs  of 
their  land?  We  answer,  such  a  league  as  this  can 
do  much.  We  have  but  to  appeal  to  history,  even 
to  the  memory  of  most  of  us  to  see  what  such  an 
organization  has  done  in  the  past. 

With  a  handful  of  men,  united,  determined,  Charles 
Stewart  Parnell  went  to  the  British  Parliament  and 
raising  his  hand  in  the  face  of  the  British  empire 
declared  no  business  would  be  done  in  the  halls  of 
legislature  until  his  cause  was  heard,  and  until 
Ireland's  wrongs  were  righted.  Did  he  succeed  ?  You 
know  he  did.  He  got  not  all  he  asked  for,  it  is  true, 
but  he  did  compel  the  greatest  living  statesman  of 
that  day,  William  E.  Gladstone,  to  shape  his  policy 
to  that  end  and  forced  the  then  dominant  liberal 
party  to  pass  a  Home  Rule  Bill  through  the  lower 
house  of  Parliament.  If  it  was  lost  in  the  senile 
House  of  Lords,  something  of  a  lasting  benefit  had 
been  accomplished.  The  Land  Bill  has  since  been 
passed,  and  the  County  Council's  Act  gives  Ireland 
almost  as  much  freedom  as  she  enjoyed  when  her 
own  Parliament  met  in  Dublin. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  245 

Lord  Russell  has  declared  that  the  Land  League 
accomplished  more  for  Ireland  than  all  her  armed 
revolutions  ever  achieved. 

Now  how  is  Ireland's  freedom  to  be  won?  By 
united,  concerted  action  at  home  and  abroad. 

Michael  Davitt  was  asked  by  the  Pope  recently 
what  was  the  population  of  Ireland.  "Twenty  millions, 
Holy  Father,  but  they  are  mostly  in  America,"  was 
the  reply.  It  is  from  America,  then,  will  come  sup- 
port and  encouragement ;  it  is  that  nerves  the  arm 
to  strife.  The  support  we  must  give  is  financial.  In 
this  great  battle  it  is  money,  not  bullets,  that  makes 
the  munition  of  war^  And  we  should  give  freely  and 
generously. 

I  have  no  patience  with  those  who  are  ever  ready 
to  condemn  a  movement  by  declaring  it  is  a  money 
making  venture.  It  is  often  but  a  convenient  excuse 
for  such  people  to  tighten  their  purse  strings. 

Members  of  Parliament  are  not  paid  by  the  Gov- 
ernment. It  is  brains,  not  men  of  means  that  Ireland 
needs.  Nor  should  we  grudge  them  their  meagre 
support.  How  many  disinterested  Congressmen  have 
we  in  Washington  who  would  serve  their  country 
without  pay?  I  never  heard  of  any  Irish  patriot 
making  money  on  his  patriotism,  though  I  have  heard 
of  many  whom  it  cost  their  fortune  and  their  life." 

The  speaker  then  told  a  pathetic  story  of  an  Irish 
patriot  of  the  Boyle  O'Reilly  and  Michael  Davitt  stamp, 
a  man  who  had  visited  his  home  in  this  city  in  the 
Land  League  days  and  whose  story  of  self-sacrifice  made 
a  lasting  impression  on  his  mind.  He,  of  late  years, 
had  wondered  where  this  man  was,  but  some  time  ago 
he  read  an  account  of  his  death  in  a  New  York  poor 
house.  This  was  the  manner  in  which  poor  Patrick 
Melledy  was  rewarded  for  his  patriotism. 


246  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

In  conclusion  Rev.  Fr.  Delany  said:  "God  has  given 
us  freedom  in  this  republic  and  in  appreciation  thereof 
we  should  show  proper  sympathy  for  every  land  strug- 
gling- to  be  free.  We  should  especially  give  our  moral 
and  financial  support  to  the  present  movement  for  the 
benefit  of  Ireland.  It  is  a  movement  adopted  by  the 
people  as  best  calculated  to  achieve  reforms  and  it  is 
one  in  which  we  can  all  assist  by  contributing  even  a 
small  amount  to  the  support  of  this  branch  of  the 
league." 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  247 


EPISCOPACY. 


When  the  Manchester  diocese  was  bereaved  of  its 
first  Bishop  all  hearts  turned  to  the  young-  Chancellor 
as  his  logical  successor.  And  so  it  came  to  pass. 

On  the  ninth  of  August,  1904,  the  fortieth  anniver- 
sary of  his  birth,  Father  Delany  received  word  from 
Rome  that  he  was  to  succeed  the  late  Bishop  Bradley. 

The  following  tribute  paid  to  Father  Delany  at  this 
time,  by  a  New  Hampshire  paper,  reveals  the  attitude 
of  the  people  toward  their  new  leader.  "The  appoint- 
ment of  Reverend  John  B.  Delany  to  be  bishop  of 
Manchester  is  one  which  every  citizen  of  New  Hamp- 
shire will  cordially  commend.  It  will  add  to  the 
Catholic  hierarchy  of  New  England  a  young,  vigorous, 
cultured  prelate,  trained  to  the  duties  of  his  new 
office  and  looking  forward  by  God's  will  to  many 
years  of  fruitful  labor.  Best  of  all,  Father  Delany's 
appointment  carries  the  assurance  of  the  continuance 
of  that  wise  and  saintly  policy  of  church  adminis- 
tration by  which  his  gifted  predecessor  made  this 
diocese  noted  for  its  spirit  of  progress;  for  while 
the  new  Bishop  will  be  no  slavish  imitator,  it  cannot 
be  but  that  his  years  of  intimate  association  with 
Bishop  Bradley  have  enabled  him  to  take  in  much  of 
that  zealous  prelate's  gracious  habit  of  mind  and 
manner.  Under  his  guidance  we  shall  look  for  the 
Catholic  Church  in  New  Hampshire  to  extend  its 
work  of  education,  philanthropy,  and  spiritual  eleva- 
tion to  a  degree  of  which  its  past  history  is  merely 
the  faintest  promise." 


248  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

CONSECRATION. 

On  Thursday,  the  eighth  of  September,  1904,  in  his 
own  cathedral  Church  of  St.  Joseph,  the  Rt.  Rev.  John 
Bernard  Delany,  D.  D.,  was  consecrated  second  bishop 
of  Manchester,  by  the  Apostolic  Delegate,  the  Most 
Rev.  Diomede  Falconio,  D.  D.,  Archbishop  of  Larissa. 
A  date  more  beautiful  and  fitting  could  hardly  have 
been  chosen, — the  feast  of  the  birthday  of  the  Mother 
of  God,  and  the  first  of  the  jubilee  in  honor  of  her  Im- 
maculate Conception.  Heaven  itself  seemed  to  smile, 
for  the  weather  during  the  hours  of  consecration  was 
all  that  could  be  desired. 

The  cathedral  itself  never  looked  better.  The  sun, 
shining  through  the  storied  windows,  cast  far  into  the 
church  brilliant  rays  of  varied  hue,  and  the  new  elec- 
tric lights  in  the  sanctuary  showed  to  best  advantage 
the  chaste  designs  of  the  marble  altars,  the  beauty  of 
which  had  not  been  marred  by  any  attempt  at  decora- 
tion. 

Not  before  in  the  Catholic  history  of  Manchester 
have  so  many  distinguished  strangers  been  her  guests. 
They  came  by  scores  during  the  day  and  evening  pre- 
vious, and  that  morning  every  incoming  train  was 
crowded  with  visiting  priests  and  laymen.  The  family 
of  the  Bishop-elect  and  their  personal  friends  from 
Lowell  came  to  the  city  in  a  special  car. 

Admission  to  the  church  was  by  ticket  only.  Long 
before  the  doors  were  open,  the  streets  in  the  immedi- 
ate neighborhood  of  the  cathedral  were  lined  with 
patient  waiters  eager  to  secure  good  seats,  and  with 
hundreds  of  spectators  who,  unable  to  gain  admission, 
had  to  content  themselves  with  a  view  of  the  pro- 
cession. Once  the  doors  were  opened,  the  church  was 
soon  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity. 

The  ordinary  seating  capacity  of  St.  Joseph's  is  1,600, 
but  by  the  judicious  placing  of  benches  and  folding 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  249 

chairs,  it  was  for  this  occasion  increased  to  2,000.  A 
glance  about  the  church  just  before  the  services  began 
disclosed  a  gathering  both  representative  and  interest- 
ing, composed  as  it  was  of  people  from  every  walk  and 
condition  in  life.  There  were  delegations  from  all  the 
religious  orders  of  the  city,  both  men  and  women,  and 
from  many  of  those  in  adjoining  states  and  in  Canada; 
members  of  the  various  organizations  with  which  the 
new  bishop  had  been  associated  as  spiritual  guide; 
clergymen  of  different  Protestant  denominations;  the 
mayor  and  other  city  officials;  the  governor  of  New 
Hampshire  and  his  staff  in  full  uniform.  In  the  pews 
nearest  the  altar  was  the  immediate  family  of  the 
bishop-elect. 

The  procession  formed  at  the  episcopal  residence, 
marched  down  Lowell  Street,  and  entered  the  cathe- 
dral by  the  great  middle  door.  As  it  moved  in 
solemn  grandeur  down  the  broad  aisle,  to  the  inspir- 
ing strains  of  Ecce  Sacerdos  Magnus,  the  vast  con- 
gregation turned  expectantly.  They  beheld  a  sight 
long  to  be  remembered.  First  came  the  cross-bearer 
and  the  acolytes.  Then,  two  by  two,  to  the  number 
of  nearly  400,  the  other  clergymen  followed,  passing 
slowly  to  seats  assigned  them  in  chancel  or  aisles, 
the  secular  priests  in  black  cassocks  and  white  sur- 
plices, the  religious  in  the  sombre  habits  of  their 
respective  orders.  Toward  the  end  of  the  long  line 
came  the  monsignori  and  the  bishops,  their  purple 
vestments  lending  brilliancy  and  impressiveness  to 
the  scene.  Just  behind  these,  between  the  assistant 
consecrators,  was  the  Bishop-elect,  in  white  cope  and 
purple  biretta.  Last  of  all,  with  his  attend- 
ants, came  His  Excellency  the  Most  Reverend 
Diomede  Falconio,  Apostolic  Delegate  and  conse- 
crating prelate,  in  full  official  robes  of  gray, 


250  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

his  cappa  magna  borne  by  two  little  pages.  Every 
eye  was  upon  him  as  he  passed  down  the  aisle,  yet 
he  was  seemingly  all  unmindful  of  the  homage  he  was 
receiving.  Indeed,  throughout  the  entire  service,  his 
modesty,  his  simplicity,  his  reverence  and  piety,  were 
at  all  times  evident,  and  made  on  every  beholder,  ir- 
respective of  creed,  an  impression  deep  and  lasting. 
So  near  he  stands  to  the  Holy  Father,  whose  direct 
representative  he  is,  that  his  presence  on  this  day 
seemed  to  bring  all  in  a  special  manner  near  to  him 
who  guides  the  Universal  Church,  and  whose  watch- 
ful care,  as  mentioned  in  the  brief  of  appointment, 
provides  bishops  for  all  the  churches  in  Christen- 
dom. 

After  a  brief  prayer,  the  Apostolic  Delegate  went 
to  the  epistle  side  of  the  main  altar,  the  Bishop-elect 
to  St.  Joseph's  altar,  where  each  was  clothed  in  the 
vestments  prescribed  for  the  occasion.  This  done, 
Mgr.  Falconio  sat  on  the  fald-stool  in  front  of  the 
altar,  the  Bishop-elect  and  the  two  consecrators  sat 
directly  in  front,  facing  him. 

First  came  the  reading  of  the  Papal  mandate. 
Then  the  Bishop-elect  took  the  solemn  oath,  in  which 
he  promised  obedience  to  the  See  of  Rome,  observ- 
ance of  apostolic  decrees,  fidelity  in  the  discharge  of 
the  duties  of  his  office,  and  in  rendering  to  the  Vicar 
of  Christ  on  earth  a  correct  account  of  all  things  per- 
taining to  the  welfare,  both  material  and  spiritual,  of 
the  churches  and  souls  committed  to  his  keeping. 

During  the  examination  that  followed,  the  Bishop- 
elect  further  promised  to  be  faithful  to  the  teachings 
of  Scripture  and  the  traditions  of  the  Catholic  Church ; 
to  refrain  from  evil  and  to  direct  his  ways  to  good ;  to 
observe  and  teach  chastity  and  sobriety;  to  take  hold  of 
things  divine,  and  abstain  from  things  worldly  and  from 
sordid  gains;  to  be  merciful  to  the  poor,  to  pilgrims, 
and  to  all  in  need.  He  also  made  a  profession  of  faith. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  251 

This  finished,  the  Mass  proper  began,  and  went  on 
as  usual  to  the  Gospel,  various  minor  ceremonies  of  the 
consecration  being-  performed  as  the  service  proceeded. 

The  preacher  of  the  day  was  the  Rev.  Win.  F. 
Gannon,  S.  J.,  President  of  Boston  College,  who  gave  an 
able  sermon,  strong  in  its  very  simplicity.  He  spoke 
as  follows: 

FR.  GANNON'S  SERMON. 

"You  have  not  chosen  Me  but  I  have  chosen  you  *  *  * 
that  whatsoever  you  shall  ask  of  the  Father  in  My  name,  He 
may  give  it  you." — JOHN  xv.,  16. 

"  Your  Excellency,  the  Most  Reverend  Apostolic  Delegate  ; 
Most  Reverend  Archbishop  ;  Right  Reverend  Bishops ;  Right 
Reverend,  Very  Reverend,  and  Reverend  Fathers;  and  Dear 
Brethren  of  the  Laity  : 

"When  our  Lord  and  Saviour  established  His  Church 
He  destined  it  to  be  the  one  and  only  true  Church, 
apostolic  and  universal,  to  embrace  all  nations  and 
peoples,  and  to  extend  through  all  time  'even  to  the 
consummation  of  the  world';  a  Church  so  near  and  so 
dear  to  the  heart  of  the  God-man  that  He  saw  fit  to  shed 
His  life-blood  for  every  soul  in  it,  and  every  soul  that 
should  be  won  to  it. 

"And,  therefore,  when  He  chose  apostles,  his  first 
bishops,  to  rule  over  this  vast  kingdom,  this  wondrous 
amalgamation  of  peoples  of  all  nations,  tribes,  and  lan- 
guages, He  created  for  these  rulers  and  their  success- 
ors a  position  of  such  high  and  awful  responsibility  that 
no  man  could  dare  accept  it  were  it  not  pressed  on  him 
by  the  God  who  can  give  and  does  give  the  strength  to 
sustain  it.  '  No  man  takes  to  himself  this  honor  unless 
he  be  called  as  was  Aaron';  'for  the  Holy  Ghost  has 
placed  you  bishops  to  rule  the  Church  of  God.'  Actsxx., 
28. 

"The  words  of  my  text  were  addressed  by  our 
Saviour  not  only  to  the  first  bishops  of  His  Church,  but 


252  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

to  every  bishop  in  the  Apostolic  line,  from  St.  Peter  to 
our  right  reverend  and  beloved  Bishop  whose  consecra- 
tion we  are  witnessing-  to-day. 

"Allow  me,  therefore,  to  place  before  you,  with  all 
needful  brevity,  a  few  thoughts  suggested  by  the  words 
of  our  Saviour:  'You  have  not  chosen  me,  but  I  have 
chosen  you.' 

"The  sublimity  and  power  and  responsibility  of  the 
bishop's  office  are  hinted  at  in  the  words  of  Christ,  but 
the  office  is  far  beyond  human  language  to  compass  in 
expression.  It  includes  the  power  of  priesthood  and 
goes  beyond;  for  the  bishop  has  power — as  St.  Chrysos- 
tom  terms  it — 'over  the  real  body  of  Christ.' 

"We  read  that  when  Joseph  of  Egypt  had  gained 
favor  with  his  king  he  was  placed  in  power  second  only 
to  the  king,  and  all  Egypt  was  at  his  bidding. 

"But  when  the  priest,  or  bishop,  enters  the  sanctuary 
to  say  Mass,  and,  coming  to  the  altar,  takes  mere  bread 
into  his  hands,  he  acts  in  the  name  and  with  the  al- 
mighty power  of  God  Himself  as  he  utters  the  words: 
'Tnis  is  MY  BODY.'  The  priest,  or  bishop,  does  not 
say:  this  is  the  body  of  Christ,  but,  'this  is  my  body'; 
the  priest  is  allowed  by  his  Divine  Master  to  lose,  as  it 
were,  his  own  personality  and  to  become  one  with  his 
God  as  he  utters  the  words  of  consecration,  and  in- 
stantly a  startling  change  takes  place.  In  the  bishop's 
hands  there  is  no  longer  any  bread,  but  the  God  of 
heaven  and  earth,  the  Judge  of  the  living  and  the  dead; 
He  who  in  the  hollow  of  his  own  hand  holds  and  poises 
the  universe,  is  resting  in  the  hands  of  his  priest. 
'I  have  chosen  you'  to  this. 

"And  a  second  great  power,  almost  equally  sublime, 
rests  with  the  priest  or  bishop;  the  power  as  it  is  called, 
'over  the  mystical  body  of  Christ, 'over  the  members 
of  the  flock  of  Christ.  To  bishops  and  priests  God 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  253 

has  given  this  power  to  restore  sinners  to  God's 
friendship.  They  are  the  judges  of  their  fellow-men. 
'  The  tongue  of  the  priest,'  as  a  saint  has  expressed 
it,  'is  the  key  by  which  hell  is  closed  and  heaven  is 
opened.' 

"Rich  and  poor,  learned  and  unlearned,  must  sub- 
mit to  the  priest's  judgment  and  sentence,  so  that 
when  you  come  to  confess  your  sins,  even  though  the 
crimes  be  such  as  cry  to  heaven  for  vengeance,  if  you 
are  sorry  for  them;  if  you  are  determined  to  sin  no 
more,  when  the  priest  raises  his  hand  above  you  and 
tells  you  that  the  sins  are  forgiven,  such  is  the  power 
that  God  has  given  to  man,  that  the  judgment  of 
God's  minister  is  ratified  in  heaven,  sins  are  blotted 
out,  and  man  by  the  power  given  to  man,  is  received 
back  into  God's  favor. 

"These  are  powers  so  great  and  so  alarming  that 
St.  Anthony,  St.  Benedict,  and  St.  Francis,  despite 
their  sanctity,  refused  to  assume  such  weighty  respon- 
sibility. 

"Yet  a  bishop  has  all  this  power,  and  more.  He  is  the 
consecrator,  model,  director,  ruler,  and  creator  of  even 
the  sublime  priesthood;  he  must  shield  his  people  by 
foreseeing  and  warding  off  danger;  he  must  feed  his 
flock  in  the  rich  pastures  of  the  sacraments,  and  of  re- 
vealed truth  ;  he  must  watch  and  pray,  '  taking  heed  for 
his  flock.' 

"A  bishop  must  be  a  man  of  prayer.  When  you  de- 
sire to  build  a  house,  and  you  call  in  an  architect  for 
consultation,  you  explain  to  him  your  views  and  wishes. 
He  frequently  consults  you  to  learn  every  detail;  for  he 
is  not  to  act  according  to  his  own  ideas  but  according 
to  yours.  It  is  to  be  your  house  and  not  his.  A  bishop 
is  God's  architect.  He  is  building  God's  house;  he  is 
to  do  God's  works.  Therefore,  he  must  consult  with 


254  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

God,  learn  God's  wishes,  views,  plans,  follow  every 
detail  prescribed  by  Almighty  God.  He  cannot  do 
this  without  coming  to  God,  talking  with  Him,  learning 
His  desires,  following  His  directions.  This  means 
prayer;  and  as  the  work  goes  constantly  on,  constant 
prayer  is  required.  The  bishop  must  be  a  man  of 
prayer. 

"More  than  this,  the  bishop  is  a  ruler  and  a  king, 
whose  power  and  whose  sway  as  far  surpass  the  sover- 
eignty of  an  earthly  king  as  heaven  is  above  earth,  as 
eternity  transcends  time,  as  eternal  life  eclipses  death. 
An  earthly  king  has  power,  but  with  limitation  of  time; 
his  subjects  are  but  temporal  and  decaying;  his  helpers 
are  mortal.  But  the  power  of  a  bishop  goes  beyond 
the  boundaries  of  earth  and  time;  his  sceptre  will  fall 
from  his  hand  in  death,  but  he  is  the  king  of  immortal 
souls  whom  he  must  rule  and  guide  into  eternal  heaven, 
and  whom,  with  his  indelible  'character'  stamped  upon 
his  soul,  he  must  follow;  but  not  until  he  has  stood  in 
presence  of  God  to  give  account  of  every  soul  under  his 
jurisdiction. 

"It  is  awful  enough  to  be  responsible  for  one's  own 
soul,  but  it  is  a  crushing  and  overwhelming  obligation 
to  stand  before  God's  searching  eye  and  answer  for 
thousands  of  souls,  for  whom  Jesus  Christ  died.  Yet, 
this  is  the  unevasive  responsibility  of  a  bishop.  'I 
have  chosen  you '  for  this. 

"Yet,  there  is  consolation  in  the  words:  'You  have 
not  chosen  Me,  but  I  have  chosen  you.' 

"The  responsibility  of  a  bishop  is  indeed  great, 
but  it  is  a  God  of  infinite  power  and  of  all  consola- 
tion who  has  imposed  it.  Men  may  impose  obliga- 
tions and  leave  us  to  our  own  fretful  resources  to 
meet  them,  but  not  so  does  God  act.  Every  act  of 
duty  has  its  accompanying  helpful  grace;  every  irk- 
some obligation  has  its  attendant  soothing  consola- 
tion. 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  255 

"  'You  have  not  chosen  Me,  but  I  have  chosen  you.' 
The  responsibility  of  choice  of  this  position  is  not 
yours  but  mine,  our  Lord  says,  and  mine  shall  be  the 
care  to  sustain  and  console  you.  Our  Lord  will  see 
that  you  draw  consolation  from  your  people.  Your 
people,  who  are  God's  people,  will  work  with  you. 
These  same  people  of  Manchester  who  faithfully  labored 
with  the  pious,  discreet,  saintly,  and  model  Bishop 
Bradley,  will,  heart  and  soul,  enter  into  the  plans  and 
views  of  their  new  Bishop,  be  obedient  to  their  prelate 
and  be  subject  to  him. 

"Indeed,  my  dear  people,  gratitude  alone  should 
force  you  to  loyal  obedience  to  your  Bishop.  You 
remember  how  our  Divine  Lord  appealed  to  the 
gratitude  of  His  people.  'When,'  He  said,  'I  shall 
be  lifted  up  from  earth  I  shall  draw  all  thing's  to 
me,'  and  He  meant  that  when  we,  His  people,  should 
gaze  upon  Him  nailed  to  the  Cross,  and  see  the 
ghastly  state  into  which  our  sins  had  brought  Him 
through  love  for  us,  we  should  be  moved  to  love  Him 
and  then  do  whatever  He  asks  of  us. 

"When,  therefore,  dear  people,  you  realize  the 
position  of  your  Bishop,  that  through  love  for  your 
souls  his  whole  life  will  be  devoted  to  you,  and 
that  he  stands  ready  'to  render  an  account'  for  your 
souls,  you  shall  love  him  and  love  God  who  has  placed 
him  over  you,  and  enter  heartily  and  obediently  into  all 
his  plans.  Then  in  his  consolation  the  right  reverend 
Bishop  will  be  able  to  give  you  the  blessing  given  by 
St.  Paul  to  his  flock.  'May  the  God  of  peace,  who 
brought  again  from  the  dead  the  great  pastor  of  the 
sheep,  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  fit  you  in  all  goodness 
that  you  may  do  His  will.' 

"As  the  people  must  be  united  with  their  bishop,  so 
the  bishop  must  be  united  with  his  fellow  bishops, 


256  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

and  they  all  with  the  Holy  See.  A  bishop  is  a  Catho- 
lic bishop  not  because  bound  to  the  apostles  by  the 
links  of  time,  but  because  by  apostolic  succession  he 
derives  from  the  Vicar  of  Christ  his  power,  his  au- 
thority, his  jurisdiction.  This  unity  it  is  which  gives 
him  strength  and  encouragement,  this  unity  of  bishops 
with  their  head  makes  the  teaching  body  of  the  church 
(under  divine  assistance  and  guidance)  invincible;  and 
this  unity  is  not  simply  a  unity  in  doctrine,  but  in 
heart  and  sentiment,  leading  all  bishops  to  enter  into 
all  views  of  the  Holy  Father  to  further  the  interests 
of  the  Holy  Church.  And  I  look  upon  this,  dear  Bishop, 
as  a  guarantee  of  your  future  sentiments  towards  the 
Holy  Father,  that  you  had  the  singular  privilege  of 
being  consecrated  by  the  Apostolic  Delegate,  nearest 
in  authority  in  this  country  to  the  source  of  authority. 
I  doubt  not  that  when  his  hands  were  laid  on  you  in 
consecration,  you  felt  a  thrill  as  if  they  were  the  hands 
of  Pius  X.  that  touched  you. 

"  Our  Lord  will  again  sustain  and  console  you  in  His 
and  your  priests  who,  by  their  zeal,  cooperation,  and 
loyalty,  will  support  your  hands  and  fight  with  you 
the  battles  in  the  cause  of  God  and  of  His  Church. 

"You  will  have  the  support  in  prayer  and  in  Mass 
of  your  fellow-bishops  and  other  prelates  of  God's 
Church,  who  from  their  own  experience  know  the 
weight  of  your  responsibility. 

"Then  again  will  come  the  sacramental  grace  to  aid 
and  bring  to  success  all  your  episcopal  work. 

"And,  with  it  all,  comes  Christ  Himself  who  has 
chosen  you  to  your  office.  He  who  will  stand  with  His 
church  to  the  consummation  of  days,  behold  He  is  with 
you!  Whom  or  what  shall  you  fear? 

"And  now,  dear  Bishop,  I  am  sure  I  may  be  allowed 
in   union  with    the   assembled    prelates,    priests,    and 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  257 

people,  to  wish  you  every  blessing-,  every  joy,  and  all 
success  in  your  episcopal  work.  May  we  ask  a  great 
favor  in  return, — the  aid  of  your  prayers  and  the  gift 
of  your  episcopal  blessing1." 

After  the  sermon,  the  consecrator,  turning-  to  the 
Bishop-elect,  announced  the  responsibilities  to  be  laid 
upon  him:  "A  bishop  judges,  interprets,  consecrates, 
ordains,  offers,  baptizes,  and  confirms."  Then,  while 
the  consecrator,  his  assistants,  and  the  Bishop-elect, 
were  prostrate  before  the  altar,  the  clergy,  in  the 
solemn  chant  of  the  Litany  of  the  Saints,  invoked  for 
the  new  prelate  the  aid  of  God's  saints  and  of  His 
own  divine  grace.  After  this  came  the  essential  part 
of  the  rite,  the  imposition  of  hands  by  the  consecrator 
and  assistants,  with  the  words,  "Receive  the  Holy 
Ghost."  The  hymn  Veni  Creator  was  intoned  by  Mgr. 
Falconio,  taken  up  and  chanted  to  the  end  by  the 
assembled  priests. 

Next  the  hands  of  the  newly-consecrated  were  anoin- 
ted with  holy  chrism.  He  had  already  received  the 
pectoral  cross;  now  the  pastoral  staff  was  blessed  and 
given  him  with  the  admonition  to  be  lovingly  severe 
in  the  correction  of  vices,  to  judge  without  wrath,  but 
to  let  not  love  of  peace  cause  him  to  neglect  discipline. 
The  pontifical  ring  was  likewise  blessed,  and  placed 
upon  the  third  finger  of  his  right  hand.  "Receive  the 
ring,"  said  the  consecrator,  "the  symbol  of  fidelity, 
in  order  that,  adorned  with  unspotted  faith,  you  may 
keep  inviolably  the  spouse  of  God,  namely,  His  Holy 
Church."  The  book  of  the  Gospels  was  now  delivered 
to  him  with  the  charge  to  go  forth  and  preach,  after 
which  the  consecrator  and  assistants  received  him  to 
the  kiss  of  peace. 

From  this  point  the  Mass  again  went  on  as  usual 
until  the  offertory  had  been  said,  when  Bishop 


258  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Delany  made  to  the  consecrator  the  customary  offer- 
ings of  two  candles,  two  loaves  of  bread,  and  two 
tiny  casks  of  wine.  The  new  Bishop  then  read  the 
offertory  in  unison  with  the  consecrator,  and  from 
that  time  the  two  together  celebrated  the  one  Mass; 
one  host  was  consecrated,  of  which  both  partook; 
both,  too,  drank  of  the  Blood  of  Christ  from  the 
same  chalice. 

At  the  close  of  the  Mass  proper  the  new  Bishop 
was  crowned  with  the  mitre,  the  helmet  of  protection 
and  salvation,  and  was  invested  with  his  gloves. 
Then  by  the  consecrator  and  the  senior  assisting 
bishop  he  was  led  to  the  throne,  the  crosier  was 
placed  in  his  hand,  and  the  long-vacant  See  of  Man- 
chester had  its  second  bishop. 

After  the  singing  of  the  Psalms,  and  just  before 
the  Te  Deum,  Bishop  Delany  descended  to  the  altar 
rail,  and  in  tones  clear  and  steady,  yet  full  of  emo- 
tion, delivered  his 

FIRST  ADDRESS  TO  HIS   PEOPLE. 

"It  is  consummated!  The  event  so  long  looked  for 
has  been  accomplished.  The  widowed  diocese  of 
Manchester  has  again  a  spouse  and  a  bishop.  You 
have  seen  the  most  august  ceremony  of  Holy  Church. 
Not  in  all  her  rites  and  ritual  is  there  so  solemn,  so 
sublime  an  act  as  that  which  you  have  this  day  wit- 
nessed, which  makes  of  one  of  her  priests  an  apostle, 
imparts  to  him  the  plenitude  of  his  office,  and  estab- 
lishes him  in  her  hierarchy  forever.  I,  the  unworthy 
subject  of  all  these  honors,  am  filled  with  conflicting 
emotions.  The  first  is  confusion  and  humiliation, 
knowing  as  I  do  my  unworthiness  of  these  favors. 
Fear,  too,  I  feel,  lest  by  my  incapacity  I  fail  in  the 
great  charge  committed  to  my  care.  Yet  there  is 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  259 

joy,  withal.  For  what  priest  of  God  would  not  re- 
joice to  know  that  he  has  this  day  received  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  God  in  its  fulness,  and  that  henceforth  it  is 
his  right  and  privilege  to  engender  sons  in  the  priest- 
hood, to  cause  that  Holy  Spirit  of  God  to  take  up  His 
abode  in  the  temple  of  the  human  heart,  and  to  per- 
petuate as  none  other  than  a  bishop  can  the  kingdom 
of  Christ  upon  earth! 

"You  have  seen  how  this  has  been  accomplished. 
The  outward  rite  is  full  of  mystical  meaning  and 
represents  to  our  bodily  eyes  what  has  transpired  in 
the  soul. 

"My  head  has  been  anointed  with  holy  chrism,  as 
was  the  head  of  the  first  high  priest,  Aaron,  to  sym- 
bolize the  spiritual  unction  that  God  pours  forth  in 
the  soul  of  His  elect.  On  my  head  has  been  placed 
the  mitre,  a  helmet  of  salvation,  that  I  may  lead  the 
people  in  the  battle  and  that  they  may  safely  follow. 
In  my  hands  was  placed  this  crosier,  the  symbol  of 
authority,  that  I  from  this  day  forward  may  rule  in 
the  Church  of  God,  being  admonished  at  the  same 
time  to  correct  with  loving  severity,  to  render  judg- 
ment without  wrath,  and  to  neglect  not  discipline 
through  love  of  tranquility.  On  my  finger  has  been 
placed  the  episcopal  ring,  the  sign  of  fidelity  and  the 
mystical  tie  that  marks  my  espousal  to  this  See  of 
Manchester.  God  grant  that  I  may  keep  her,  my 
spouse  and  the  spouse  of  Christ,  'without  spot  or 
wrinkle  or  any  such  thing.' 

"The  ceremony  is  over.  Let  me  thank  His  Excel- 
lency, the  Apostolic  Delegate,  who  has  honored  our 
city  and  our  diocese  by  his  presence  here  to-day;  let 
me  offer  him,  the  highest  representative  in  this 
country  of  our  Holy  Father  the  Pope,  our  sincerest 
homage  and  gratitude.  I  assure  him  for  myself  and 


260  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

my  people  of  our  undying-  love  and  loyalty  to  the 
Holy  See  of  Rome,  proclaiming-  that  our  first  and  last 
prayer  will  be  for  the  great  and  good  pontiff,  Pius 
X.,  who  fills  the  chair  of  St.  Peter  as  Christ's  vicar 
upon  earth.  I  thank  the  other  illustrious  prelates 
here  who  honor  us  on  this  occasion,  and  my  brothers 
of  the  clergy  who  in  such  great  number  testify  by 
their  presence  their  love  and  veneration. 

"It  only  remains  for  me  to  impart  my  first  episco- 
pal benediction.  This  I  do:  first,  to  those  who  are 
united  to  me  by  blood  and  kinship,  and  to  whom, 
under  God,  I  owe  that  I  am  what  I  am.  I  give  that 
blessing  to  my  brethren  of  the  clergy,  especially  to 
the  priests  of  this  diocese,  with  whom  I  have  been 
associated  all  the  years  of  my  priestly  life  in  the 
closest  bonds  of  love  and  friendship.  I  give  it  to  the 
religious  of  the  diocese,  the  men  and  women  who, 
having  consecrated  their  lives  to  God,  are  laboring 
with  unselfish  devotion  for  the  salvation  of  souls  of 
this  generation  and  of  generations  yet  to  come.  I 
give  it  to  the  people  of  this  Cathedral  parish,  who 
know  me  best  and  from  whom  I  have  received  so 
many  kindnesses  in  the  past.  I  extend  my  blessing 
to  the  people  of  this  city  of  Manchester,  and  to  the 
citizens  of  the  State  whose  spiritual  welfare  is  com- 
mitted to  my  care.  I  ask  God  to  bless  this  our 
country,  our  rulers,  and  our  institutions  born  of  free- 
dom." 

Crosier  in  hand,  and  attended  by  the  assistant  con- 
secrators,  Bishop  Delany  then  went  down  the  broad 
aisle,  blessing  the  congregation  as  he  passed,  but 
stopping  a  moment  at  the  front  pew  to  give  his  first 
greeting  and  benediction  to  his  beloved  mother.  Upon 
reaching  the  main  door  of  the  cathedral  he  stepped 
outside,  and  gave  his  blessing  to  the  throng  that  had 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  261 

been  unable  to  gain  admission.  The  singing  of  the 
Te  Deum  concluded  the  ceremony,  which  had  occu- 
pied a  little  less  than  four  hours. 

The  determination  of  the  new  Bishop  to  have  even 
the  least  detail  of  the  consecration  ceremonies  in 
strict  accordance  with  the  highest  religious  spirit  of 
the  Church,  led  him  to  select  for  his  musical  pro- 
gram the  "Mass  of  the  Angels"  in  plain  Gregorian 
chant.  This  was  a  fitting  tribute  to  Pkis  X.,  the 
more  so  as  the  occasion  was  the  first  of  its  kind  in 
America  at  which  the  desires  of  the  Holy  Father  in 
this  regard  had  been  fulfilled. 

The  success  of  the  Gregorian  chant  depends  en- 
tirely upon  the  work  of  the  chorus;  there  are  in  it 
no  solos,  no  elaborations,  no  orchestral  accompani- 
ments to  hide  defects  or  heighten  effects — only  the 
organ  aids  in  the  production.  How  well  the  chorus 
of  this  day — consolidated  from  the  various  Catholic 
choirs  of  the  city — performed  its  difficult  task  may 
be  judged  from  the  fact  that  Mgr.  Falconio  said  he 
had  never  heard  in  America,  and  seldom  in  any 
other  country,  music  so  effectively  rendered.  Arch- 
bishop Williams,  too,  and  not  a  few  of  the  bishops 
and  the  priests,  added  their  word  of  praise. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  no  layman  present  had  ever 
before  heard  the  "incarnatus  est"  given  with  such 
religious  devotion  and  finish.  The  mystery,  the  sub- 
limity of  the  birth  of  the  God-Man,  its  message  of 
promise  to  the  human  race  in  every  age — all  this  was 
whispered  in  tones  so  hushed  yet  so  majestic  as 
never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who  heard.  In  strik- 
ing contrast  was  the  "unam  sanctam  Catholicam." 
In  this  the  real  strength  of  the  chorus  was  evinced. 
The  volume  of  tone  was  tremendous,  the  expression 


262  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

triumphant,  as  those  hundred  and  fifty  voices  rang 
out  that  grand  finale  of  Catholic  hope  and  faith. 

The  gathering  of  priests  was  notable.  From  all 
parts  of  this  country  they  came,  from  Canada,  Ireland, 
and  France,  testifying  by  their  presence  their  faith  in 
the  Church  they  serve,  and  their  affectionate  regard 
for  the  new  bishop. 

Most  prominent  among  them  was  His  Excellency 
Diomede  Falconio,  D.  D.,  the  consecrating  prelate. 
Next  to  him  the  figure  that  attracted  greatest  atten- 
tion was  the  Most  Rev.  John  J.  Williams,  the  beloved 
and  venerable  head  of  the  Archdiocese  of  Boston.  All 
the  bishops  of  New  England  were  there :  the  Rt.  Rev. 
John  Michaud  of  Burlington,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Matthew  Har- 
kins  of  Providence,  the  Rt.  Rev.  M.  E.  Tierney  of 
Hartford,  the  Rt.  Rev.  T.  D.  Beaven  of  Springfield,  the 
Rt.  Rev.  Wm.  H.  O'Connell  of  Portland,  and  the  Rt.  Rev. 
John  Brady,  Auxiliary  Bishop  of  Boston.  Other  pre- 
lates were  the  Rt.  Rev.  Edward  P.  Allen  of  Mobile 
and  the  Rt.  Rev.  Mgr.  Decelles  of  Hyacinth,  P.  Q. 
Archbishop  Farley  of  New  York  was  represented  by 
the  Mgr.  D.  J.  McMackin,  D.  D.,  of  St  Patrick's 
Cathedral,  New  York  City,  and  from  Boston  came  the 
Rev.  Frederick  J.  Delany,  brother  of  Bishop  Delany. 

From  Paris  came  the  Rev.  Paul  de  Foville, 
S.  S.,  of  the  faculty  of  the  seminary  of  St.  Sulpice, 
where  Bishop  Delany  made  his  theological  studies. 
Ireland  was  represented  by  the  Rev.  D.  I.  Donnehy 
and  Rev.  D.  W.  Kent  of  Queenstown. 

The  monsignori  in  attendance  were  the  Rt.  Rev.  Mgr. 
D.  W.  Murphy  of  Dover,  N.  H.,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Mgr.  Thos. 
Magennis  of  Jamaica  Plain,  Mass.,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Mgr.  A. 
J.  Teeling  of  Lynn,  Mass.,  and  the  Rev.  Mgr.  Thos. 
Griffin  of  Worcester,  Mass. 

St.  Anselm's  College  in  Manchester  was  represented 
by  its  president,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Hilary  Pfraengle,  O. 


OP  BISHOP  DELANY  263 

S.  B.  From  St.  John's  Seminary  in  Brighton  came 
its  vice-rector,  the  Rev.  Matthew  Flaherty,  A.  M.,  and 
the  Rev.  J.  C.  Brophy;  from  Boston  College  the  Rev. 
Wm.  F.  Gannon,  S.  J.,  who  preached  the  consecra- 
tion sermon;  and  the  Catholic  University  at  Wash- 
ington was  represented  by  the  dean  of  its  faculty, 
the  Rev.  Edmund  T.  Shanahan,  S.  T.  D. 

Still  other  well-known  clergymen  were  the  Very 
Rev.  T.  F.  Doran,  V.  G.,  of  Providence,  the  Very  Rev. 
Wm.  Byrne,  V.  G.,  of  Boston,  the  Very  Rev.  E.  F. 
Hurley,  V.  G.,  of  Portland,  the  Very  Rev.  John  I. 
Madden,  V.  G.,  of  Springfield,  and  the  Very  Rev.  E. 
M.  O'Callaghan,  V.  G.,  of  Concord,  N.  H. 

After  the  services  Bishop  Delany  entertained  the 
clergy  at  dinner  in  Mechanics'  Hall.  The  decorations 
of  the  interior  of  the  big  building  were  most  artistic, 
the  central  theme  being  a  combination  of  the  papal 
colors,  yellow  and  white,  in  honor  of  the  Apos- 
tolic Delegate,  and  of  the  episcopal  colors,  purple 
and  white.  The  ceiling  was  almost  hidden  by 
the  national  colors.  These  covered,  too,  the  edges 
of  the  balconies,  where  potted  plants  were 
also  used  with  charming  effect.  The  stage,  where  the 
orchestra  was  stationed,  was  almost  hidden  behind  a 
mass  of  green. 

During  the  banquet  Archbishop  Williams  was  asked 
to  respond  to  the  only  toast  of  the  day,  that  to  the 
Pope.  This  he  did  in  a  most  interesting  manner, 
pointing  out  a  few  of  the  characteristics  that  mark  the 
Holy  Father,  especially  in  his  relations  with  the  poor 
and  the  common  people.  The  Archbishop  spoke  with  all 
his  old-time  vigor  and  eloquence,  his  every  word  being 
distinctly  heard  throughout  the  great  hall. 

Later,  two  presentations  were  made  to  Bishop 
Delany.  The  first  was  by  the  Very  Rev.  E.  M. 


264  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

O'Callaghan,  who,  in  a  finished  address,  offered  to  the 
new  leader  of  the  diocese   the   homage  of  his  clergy 
and  a  substantial  testimonial.     Fr.  O'Callaghan  spoke 
in  part  as  follows: 
Right  Reverend  and  dear  Bishop: 

"We,  the  priests  of  your  diocese,  deem  it  a  pleasing 
duty  to  offer  you  our  sincere  congratulations  this 
memorable  day,  when,  having  received  by  consecration 
the  fulness  of  the  priesthood,  you  have  been  placed 
by  the  Holy  Ghost  amongst  the  rulers  of  the  Church 
of  God. 

"  Were  a  stranger  to  our  diocese  appointed  by  the 
Holy  See  our  bishop,  we  would  receive  him  in  fitting 
manner,  and  promise  him  reverence  and  obedience; 
for,  in  common  with  all  loyal  Catholics,  we  recognize 
the  Vicar  of  Christ  as  the  supreme  source  on  earth 
of  all  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction,  but  to-day  we  approach 
our  new  spiritual  leader  with  far  warmer  feelings; 
for  in  him  we  see  one  associated  with  us  all  through 
his  priestly  life,  one  whom  we  know  well,  and  who, 
knowing  us  so  intimately,  cannot  but  be  interested 
deeply  in  our  welfare  and  that  of  our  diocese. 

"Hence,  Right  Reverend  and  dear  Bishop,  all  unite 
this  day  in  hailing  you  as  their  spiritual  chief,  and  in 
the  sincerity  and  loyalty  of  their  hearts  pledge  you  their 
sympathy  and  co-operation. 

"By  your  ability  and  zeal,  by  your  loyalty  to  those 
under  whom  you  have  served,  by  the  throughness 
with  which  you  have  performed  all  your  clerical  duties, 
and  by  the  success  which  has  crowned  your  efforts 
as  a  priest  of  the  diocese,  you  have  won  the  esteem 
of  your  superiors,  and  merited  the  respect  of  all. 

"As  one  so  long  near  to  our  late  beloved  Bishop, 
as  one  who  has  honored  his  ministry,  we  welcome  you 
and  salute  you,  raised  this  day  to  the  exalted  dignity 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  265 

of  Prince  of  the  Church,  and  with  crosier  in  hand  and 
mitre  on  brow  solemnly  enthroned  as  shepherd  of  the 
flock;  and  we  pray  that  all  through  the  years  of  your 
future  life —  and  may  they  be  very  many  indeed  — 
you  may  be  ever  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  both  clergy 
and  people.  *  *  * 

"By  you  we  know  the  traditions  of  our  diocese  will 
be  loyally  and  carefully  observed.  Hence,  Right  Rev- 
erend and  dear  Bishop,  we  feel  that  its  future  is  safe 
in  your  hands;  and  we  only  hope  and  pray  that  the 
same  measure  of  success  which  attended  the  labors 
of  our  first  Bishop  may  crown  also  those  of  your 
episcopal  life. 

"In  conclusion,  we  beg  to  assure  you  of  our  con- 
stant sympathy  and  hearty  support  in  all  you  may 
undertake  for  the  advancement  of  religion  and  the 
welfare  of  the  diocese,  and  we  pray  you  to  accept 
this  gift  which  we  offer  as  a  proof  of  our  good  will 
and  of  the  sincerity  of  our  professions. 

"Lastly,  that  God  may  give  you  length  of  days, 
and  that  He  may  crown  your  labors  as  second  Bishop 
of  this  diocese  with  untold  blessings,  is  the  heart- 
felt wish  and  prayer  of  your  friends  and  brethren, 
the  clergy  of  your  diocese." 
Bishop  Delany  Responded: 

"My  fathers,  my  brothers,  let  me  thank  you  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart  for  this  testimonial  of  re- 
spect and  regard.  More  than  words  can  tell  do  I 
appreciate  the  sentiments  which  prompted  it.  Yet 
I  needed  no  such  manifestation  of  your  good  will. 
All  my  priestly  life  I  have  received  only  kindness 
and  consideration  from  your  hands,  and  I  feel  that  it 
is  I,  rather,  who  should,  to-day,  testify  my  gratitude, 
my  love,  my  admiration,  for  the  priests  of  New 
Hampshire.  No  one  knows  better  than  I  what  man- 


266  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

ner  of  men  you  are.  No  one  knows  better  your 
labors  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  souls 
committed  to  your  care.  No  one  knows  better  nor 
appreciates  more  highly  than  I  do  your  zeal,  your 
sacrifices,  your  piety,  and  your  disinterestedness. 
It  has  always  been  my  pride  and  boast  to  be  counted 
one  of  your  number,  and  now  that  it  has  pleased 
Almighty  God  to  make  me  your  Bishop,  you  have 
given  me  the  highest  proof  of  faith  that  men  can 
give  to  another  in  the  loyal,  sincere,  complete  alle- 
giance that  you  have  this  day  tendered  me.  God  be 
praised,  you  could  do  no  more!  It  remains  for  me 
to  make  the  best  use  of  the  devoted  services  you 
have  placed  in  my  hands. 

"Let  me  say  here  that  I  have  no  policy  to  lay  down. 
I  simply  say  that  I  will  be  the  Bishop,  the  whole 
Bishop,  and  nothing  but  the  Bishop.  Having  sought 
not  the  office,  I  owe  it  to  no  man.  I  have  no  favors 
to  repay,  no  grudges  to  requite.  I  have  no  princi- 
ples to  follow  other  than  those  given  in  the  solemn 
monitions  of  the  pontifical.  Justice,  charity,  and  fair 
dealing  will  be  my  endeavor,  that  the  body  of  Christ 
may  be  built  up,  and  that  right,  truth,  and  virtue 
may  prevail  among  priests  and  people. 

"If  I  have  one  ambition,  it  is  to  honor  and  perpet- 
uate the  memory  of  my  beloved  and  sainted  prede- 
cessor, and  if  I  have  one  desire,  it  is  to  follow  in  the 
straight  and  narrow  path  he  trod  to  God.  His  work 
and  his  example  is  a  priceless  heritage  to  every  priest 
of  New  Hampshire,  and  will  be  to  me  a  never-failing 
source  of  inspiration.  May  he  look  down  from  heaven 
to-day  upon  us,  and  may  he  continue  to  guard  and 
guide  the  destinies  of  the  diocese  he  loved  and  served 
so  well ! 

"I  cannot  let  this  occasion  go  by  without  testifying 
my  gratitude  and  that  of  the  priests  of  the  diocese 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  267 

to  our  esteemed  brother  in  Christ,  who,  during-  the 
trying  period  of  the  vacancy,  has  filled  the  office  of 
administrator.  His  term  of  office  was  marked  with 
ability,  with  zeal,  with  kindness  to  us  all,  and  he  has 
deserved  the  lasting-  gratitude  of  every  one  of  us." 

The  second  presentation  was  made  by  the  Rev. 
Louis  S.  Walsh,  supervisor  of  the  parochial  schools 
in  Boston.  On  behalf  of  the  alumni  of  St.  Sulpice, 
he  presented  the  Bishop  with  a  beautiful  chalice  of 
Gothic  design  in  Roman  gold,  bearing-  four  raised 
medallions,  its  knob  studded  with  diamonds,  its  base 
set  with  pearls.  To  this  address,  also,  Bishop  Delany 
responded  in  his  usual  happy  manner. 

Mitres  were  so  common  that  day  as  to  cause  con- 
siderable comment,  the  ices  being-  served  in  miniature 
mitres,  which  were  kept  by  the  priests  as  souvenirs  of 
the  occasion. 

After  the  banquet,  those  of  the  alumni  of  St.  Sulpice 
there  present  formed  a  permanent  organization,  of 
which  the  newly  consecrated  Bishop  was  unanimously 
chosen  president.  He  at  once  invited  the  society  to 
hold  their  first  annual  reunion  in  Manchester  some 
time  the  next  year,  as  his  guests. 

The  first  Mass  said  by  Bishop  Delany  after  his  con- 
secration, was  on  Friday,  September  9,  for  the  Catholic 
school  children  of  the  city  and  their  teachers,  members 
of  the  various  religious  orders.  On  the  Monday  follow- 
ing he  celebrated  his  first  pontifical  Mass  for  the  re- 
pose of  the  soul  of  his  predecessor. 

On  Monday  evening,  September  12,  occurred  one  of 
the  larg-est  parades  ever  seen  in  Manchester.  In  this 
the  Catholic  men  of  the  city,  hundreds  of  whom  had 
not  been  privileged  to  assist  at  the  religious  celebration 
took  part.  The  various  parishes  vied  with  each  other 
in  sending  out  large  representations,  and  the  result 
was  a  showing  most  creditable. 


268  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

The  parade  was  formed  on  Elm  street,  passed  over  to 
and  through  West  Manchester,  thence  back  to  the  city 
proper,  and  finally  before  the  reviewing  stand  in  front 
of  the  cathedral  chapel. 

The  scenes  along  the  route  of  march  were  every- 
where memorable.  Many  of  the  business  houses  dis- 
played decorations,  and  red  fire  was  so  profusely  burnt 
that  the  streets  were  ablaze  with  light.  Every  avail- 
able point  of  vantage  was  occupied  with  spectators, 
who  greeted  each  division  with  generous  applause. 
Perhaps  the  parish  that  received  most  hearty  praise 
was  St.  Hedwidge's,  youngest  of  the  eight,  represented 
by  over  three  hundred  loyal  Poles.  They  were  headed 
by  thirteen  mounted  aids,  and  their  neat  appearance 
and  fine  marching  won  favorable  comment  from  all. 
The  delegation  from  St.  George's  parish  was  headed 
by  the  pastor,  the  Rev.  I.  H.  C.  Davignon.  All  the  long 
way  the  aged  priest  marched  with  his  men,  and  his 
presence  evoked  the  heartiest  applause. 

The  reviewing  stand,  with  the  vine-clad  walls  of  the 
chapel  for  background,  was  beautifully  festooned  with 
hangings  of  the  national  and  episcopal  colors,  and  was 
lighted  by  three  electric  arc  lamps.  The  houses  in  the 
neighborhood  were  elaborately  decorated.  On  the 
stand,  with  the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop,  were  all  the  priests  of 
the  city,  many  clerical  visitors  from  out  of  town,  and 
the  laymen  who  were  to  deliver  addresses.  In  front  of 
the  platform,  when  the  marchers  had  passed,  surged  a 
vast  gathering  of  humanity,  eager  to  hear  the  presenta- 
tion speeches.  After  a  wait  of  a  moment  or  two  for 
quiet,  the  Bishop  and  the  priests  rose,  and  stood  with 
uncovered  heads  while  the  addresses  were  made. 

They  were  made  in  English  and  French.  The 
Bishop  was  deeply  touched  by  such  a  manifestation 
of  the  esteem  and  loyalty  of  his  people.  He  then  ad- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  269 

dressed  the  vast  assemblage  first  in  English.  He 
said  that  it  was  a  source  of  great  joy  to  witness 
such  a  magnificent  demonstration  tendered  to  him  in 
his  honor  by  the  Catholics  of  the  city.  Continuing, 
Bishop  Delany  said:  "Only  a  few  weeks  ago  word 
was  received  from  Rome  that  I,  though  unworthy  as 
I  am,  had  been  appointed  Bishop  of  Manchester.  The 
news  was  received  with  submission.  I  have  been 
made  an  apostle  of  the  Lord,  and  as  such  have  the 
care  and  spiritual  welfare  of  my  people. 

"Only  a  few  days  ago  our  city  was  honored  by  the 
presence  of  the  Apostolic  Delegate,  the  greatest  re- 
presentative of  the  Pope  on  this  side  of  the  water, 
and  you  saw  him  anoint  my  head  with  holy  chrism, 
which  made  me  an  apostle  of  the  Lord. 

"This  demonstration  to-night  is  an  evidence  of 
your  loyalty  and  faith.  Men  of  different  nations  and 
languages  have  assembled  to  take  part  in  this  recep- 
tion. Christ  gave  to  men  their  gift  of  tongue.  He 
did  not  ask  them  to  change  their  tongue.  I  can  only 
wish  that  the  Lord  had  granted  me  every  tongue  so 
that  I  might  thank  each  of  you  in  your  own  language 
for  this  honor  you  have  shown  me.  I  came  to  you  with 
affiliation  for  all  and  as  the  shepherd  to  guard  the 
sheep. 

"I  thank  the  committee  in  charge  of  the  affair,  and 
also  all  who  have  participated  in  this  great  demonstra- 
tion in  my  honor. 

"To  my  Polish  friends,  I  would  say  that  I  thank  them 
for  their  part  in  this  event,  and  only  wish  that  I  might 
be  able  to  address  them  in  their  own  language.  They 
have  been  persecuted  for  their  faith  in  their  country 
and  have  come  here.  It  is  my  duty  to  assist  them  in 
their  spiritual  welfare  and  aid  them  in  becoming  good 
and  loyal  citizens." 


270  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Bishop  Delany  then  made  a  brief  address  in  French, 
in  which  he  thanked  the  French  Catholics  who  had  par- 
ticipated in  the  event. 

In  French,  he  said: 
"My  Dear  French-Speaking  Friends: 

"I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  the  sentiments 
expressed  in  your  address,  and  for  this  magnificent 
demonstration  of  your  faith  and  your  devotion  towards 
me  as  the  head  of  the  diocese  of  Manchester. 

"Nobody  appreciates  more  than  myself  the  loyal 
French-Canadian  race,  and  no  one  knows  better  than 
I  what  you  have  done  for  the  city  of  Manchester,  this 
State  of  New  Hampshire,  and  the  entire  diocese. 

Now  that  God  has  placed  me  at  the  head  of  the  dio- 
cese, and  that  the  Holy  Ghost  has  named  me  pastor 
of  this  field,  is  it  necessary  for  me  to  profess  the  love 
that  I  feel  for  each  of  you?  It  was  not  to-day  that  I 
learned  to  love  the  French  spirit.  It  was  among 
you  that  I  made  my  theological  studies.  It  was  in 
France  that  I  received  the  sacrament  of  Holy  Orders. 
It  is  France  that  I  esteem  as  the  Country  of  my  soul. 
How,  then,  could  it  be  possible  that  I  should  not  love 
the  sons  of  that  land,  the  best  part  of  which,  I  affirm, 
has  been  named  Canadian,  and  part  of  which  God  has 
placed  under  my  care. 

"It  is  with  sentiments  of  love  and  respect  that  you 
have  greeted  me  to-night,  and  it  is  with  the  same 
sentiments  that  I  receive  you.  If  I  have  any  advice  to 
offer  you,  as  your  spiritual  chief,  they  are  that  you 
be  true  to  the  Catholic  traditions  that  you  have  brought 
with  you  to  this  land;  be  ever  faithful  to  the  voice  of 
your  pastors,  and,  let  me  add  here,  be  faithful,  be  true 
to  the  land  that  gives  you  a  home;  remembering  that 
the  better  Catholics  you  are,  the  better  citizens  you 
become." 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  271 

The  following  extracts  from  editorial  comments  on 
the  appointment  of  the  new  head  of  the  Manchester 
diocese  are  sufficient  evidence  of  the  high  regard  in 
which  the  Bishop-elect  was  held  by  the  newspaper  fra- 
ternity in  New  England: 

THE  UNION,    MANCHESTER. 

Genuine  grief  was  felt  by  Catholic  and  Protestant 
alike  at  the  death  of  Bishop  Denis  M.  Bradley,  and 
genuine  concern  as  to  the  choice  of  a  successor  to 
him,  for  it  was  a  matter  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
the  Church  and  the  community.  Equally  genuine  are 
the  expressions  of  gratification  that  the  choice  has 
fallen  upon  the  Rev.  J.  B.  Delany,  one  of  Bishop 
Bradley's  trusted  priests  and  one  of  Manchester's 
most  highly  esteemed  citizens.  Those  who  know  him 
are  confident  that  he  will  administer  the  spiritual  and 
temporal  affairs  of  the  diocese  faithfully  and  wisely, 
and  many  are  the  prayers  that  will  be  joined  to  his, 
asking  that  he  may  be  made  a  worthy  successor  to 
that  good  and  gentle  man  with  whom  the  diocese  was 
blessed,  and  whose  presence  here  worked  for  good 
among  us  all. 

Father  Delany  is  not  new  to  the  task  that  lies  be- 
fore him.  He  comes  to  it  with  a  full  knowledge  of 
its  responsibilities,  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  with  a 
mental  and  physical  endowment  peculiarly  suited  to 
the  work.  He  has  a  wide  acquaintance,  and  is  loved 
and  respected  wherever  he  is  known.  The  same 
considerations  and  emotions  that  led  men  of  all  creeds, 
and  of  all  sorts  and  conditions,  to  lament  the  death  of 
Bishop  Bradley,  will  lead  them  to  rejoice  over  the  se- 
lection of  Father  Delany  to  succeed  him. 

THE    MIRROR,    MANCHESTER. 

The  position  to  which  Father  John  B.  Delany  has  been 
assigned  by  the  head  of  the  Catholic  Church  is  one 


272  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

which  only  a  great  and  good  man  can  fill  successfully. 
It  is  a  difficult  place,  not  only  because  it  is  one  of  tre- 
mendous power  and  responsibility,  but  because  the  in- 
cumbent will  necessarily  be  contrasted  with  the  be- 
loved, respected,  and  admired  Bishop  Bradley,  whose 
worldly  wisdom,  tact,  and  executive  genius  were  as 
commanding  as  his  piety  and  devotion  were  untiring 
and  unfailing. 

Father  Delany  has  a  cordial  welcome  to  his  new  post. 
His  profound  learning,  his  piety  and  his  loyalty  have 
been  proved  and  are  known.  He  was  the  associate  of 
Bishop  Bradley  for  many  years,  and  is  thoroughly  famil- 
iar with  the  duties  of  his  position,  with  the  more  than 
fifty  churches  in  his  jurisdiction,  and  with  the  thous- 
ands of  communicants.  His  own  people  believe  in  him, 
and  from  the  beginning  he  commands  not  only  their  re- 
gard but  their  affection.  Others  must  necessarily  ac- 
cept him  largely  upon  trust,  but  they  do  it  in  the  belief 
and  with  the  sincere  wish  that  he  will  justify  his  ap- 
pointment. 

THE   NEWS,    MANCHESTER. 

The  report  which  received  official  confirmation  at 
Washington  late  on  Saturday  had  its  origin  almost 
contemporaneously  with  the  death  in  last  December 
of  the  great  first  Bishop  of  Manchester.  In  far  away 
corners  of  New  Hampshire,  if  there  be  those  who  say, 
"Is  he  fit?  Is  he  worthy?"  their  anxiety  for  their 
church  will  be  removed  when  they  know  that  almost 
with  that  dark  day  when  Bishop  Bradley's  people 
turned  to  one  another  in  tears  to  ask,  "Where  shall  his 
successor  be  found?"  the  answer  was  nearly  always  in  the 
name  of  the  young  priest  who  had  been  at  his  side  and 
in  his  closest  confidence  for  five  worthy  years.  And 
from  that  moment,  notwithstanding  reports  of  one  kind 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  273 

and  another  that  have  been  put  forward  for  various 
reasons  in  the  public  press,  there  has  been  no  disquiet 
in  the  hearts  of  Manchester  Catholics. 

Perhaps  it  would  not  be  right  to  say  that  this  is  the 
only  case  of  the  kind,  but  it  is  at  least  worthy  of  re- 
mark that  here  was  a  case,  anyhow,  wherein  no  word 
of  objection  was  raised  from  one  end  of  the  diocese 
to  the  other.  We  say  that  this  is  remarkable,  because 
all  men  are  human;  and  here  was  a  young-  man  of  ten 
years'  experience  in  the  priesthood,  who  had  never  been 
in  charge  of  a  parish,  and  who  was  at  once  to  be  el- 
evated to  the  nobility  of  the  Church  over  the  heads, 
as  the  world  says,  of  men  of  riper  experience  and  of 
many  years'  self-sacrificing  labor  in  the  vineyard.  Not 
one  word  of  protest.  In  a  See  where  the  children  of 
the  Church  are  of  many  lands,  and  where  they  speak 
a  various  language,  the  appointment  of  Father  Delany 
to  the  bishopric  was  taken  for  granted,  and  on  all  sides 
there  was,  and  there  is,  the  most  complete  satisfaction. 

It  is  a  heavy  burden  that  this  young  priest  is  about 
to  take  up.  An  exalted  place,  truly,  a  station  of  the 
highest  dignity,  but  carrying  with  it  cares  that  the 
world  knows  little  of.  Endowed  by  nature  with  un- 
usual abilities,  he  brings  to  meet  these  duties  a  rugged, 
fearless,  sincere  faith. 

We  may  congratulate  Bishop-elect  John  Bernard 
Delany  on  the  honors  that  have  come  to  him.  Much 
more  may  we  congratulate  the  Roman  Catholics  of  the 
diocese  of  Manchester  upon  their  new  Bishop. 

THE  TELEGRAPH,    NASHUA. 

In  Nashua  the  elevation  of  a  man  so  deserving  as 
Father  Delany  brings  a  sense  of  pleasure  to  members 
of  the  Catholic  Church  as  well  as  to  those  of  other  creeds. 
All  recognize  in  him  a  clergyman  of  exceeding  ability, 
and  predict  abundant  success  in  his  conduct  of  church 
work  throughout  the  State. 


274  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

THE  DAILY   PRESS,    NASHUA. 

An  honest,  noble,  spiritual  leader  has  been  put  at 
the  head  of  the  Manchester  diocese  of  the  Catholic 
Church  in  the  person  of  Rt.  Rev.  John  B.  Delany, 
D.  D.,  of  Manchester,  recently  appointed  to  the 
bishopric.  The  Catholics  of  Nashua  are  not  alone  in 
welcoming-  to  the  front  so  able  and  so  whole-souled  a 
man  as  Rev.  Fr.  Delany.  All  churches  sorrowed  in 
the  passing1  of  one  so  firm  and  true  in  the  way  as 
the  late  Bishop  Bradley,  who  was  a  foremost  cham- 
pion of  many  of  the  great  and  good  works  done 
throughout  the  State  for  years.  There  was  no  hesi- 
tancy in  marking-  his  successor,  however,  and  at  once 
all  eyes  were  turned  to  Rev.  John  B.  Delany. 
Through  the  weeks  of  uncertainty  there  has  never 
been  a  doubt  in  the  minds  of  his  followers  that  he 
would  receive  the  honor  and  responsibility.  Now 
that  it  has  become  assured  all  alike  rejoice.  Rev.  Fr. 
Delany  from  boyhood  up  has  led  a  life  devoted  to 
the  Church,  always  interested  in  public  affairs,  ath- 
letic and  robust,  he  has  not  sacrificed  either  body  or 
mind  in  developing-  himself  for  great  work.  There  is 
every  confidence  in  his  ability,  and  rejoicing  in  his 
selection. 

THE   CHRONICLE,    PORTSMOUTH. 

The  election  of  Rt.  Rev.  John  B.  Delany  to  the 
office  of  Bishop  of  Manchester  was  very  pleasing  to 
the  people  of  New  Hampshire,  Catholics  and  Protest- 
ants alike.  Bishop-elect  Delany  has  long  been  recog- 
nized as  one  of  the  ablest  clergymen  in  the  State,  and 
he  is,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  the  most  popular. 
No  better  selection  could  have  been  made. 

Rev.  Fr.  Delany  has  a  great  many  friends  in 
Portsmouth,  gained  while  he  held  the  position  of 
curate  of  the  Church  of  the  Immaculate  Conception 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  275 

in  this  city.  His  advancement  especially  pleases 
Portsmouth  people  therefore,  because  he  is  regarded 
as  almost  one  of  themselves.  His  friends  here  are  not 
confined  to  those  of  his  own  faith,  but  include  many 
people  prominent  in  the  local  Protestant  churches. 

The  office  of  Bishop  of  Manchester,  making  its 
holder,  as  it  does,  the  spiritual  adviser  of  thousands  of 
citizens  of  the  State,  is  a  most  important  one,  and  it  is 
cause  for  congratulation  that  a  man  of  Rev.  Fr.  Delany's 
ability,  energy,  and  broad-minded  character  has  been 
chosen  to  fill  it. 

THE  SUN,    LOWELL. 

It  is  with  intense  satisfaction  that  the  friends  of  Rev. 
John  B.  Delany  in  this  city  have  heard  the  news  of  his 
official  appointment  by  the  Holy  See  as  Bishop  of  Man- 
chester. 

Father  Delany  is  a  young  man  of  rare  attainments  as 
a  scholar,  an  organizer,  and  a  writer.  As  editor  of  the 
Guidon,  a  Catholic  magazine,  published  at  Manchester, 
with  a  circulation  extending  all  over  New  England,  Rev. 
Fr.  Delany  has  proved  himself  an  able  writer,  a  keen 
controversalist,  although  he  seldom  enters  a  contro- 
versy voluntarily.  His  progressive  work  in  his  maga- 
zine shows  that  he  is  a  believer  in  the  power  of  the  press 
as  a  valuable  adjunct  to  the  pulpit  in  the  propagation  of 
religious  doctrine  as  well  as  of  general  intelligence. 

As  a  rule  the  priests  of  the  Catholic  Church  avoid 
publicity;  they  consider  it  inconsistent  with  true 
humility  to  have  their  sermons  published  or  even  their 
names  favorably  mentioned  in  the  public  press.  For 
this  reason  they  are  largely  averse  to  the  reporting  of 
sermons  or  of  religious  ceremonies  of  any  kind,  but 
Rev.  Fr.  Delany,  while  as  humble  in  manner  as  any  of 
them,  believes  in  using  the  press  to  guide  and  enlighten 
those  who  go  to  church  as  well  as  to  reach  with  religious 


276  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

appeals  those  who  do  not  go  to  church  and  who  cannot 
be  reached  in  any  other  way.  He  realizes  the  vast 
power  of  the  press,  and  he  believes  in  using1  it  in  spread- 
ing1 the  light  of  the  gospel  as  an  adjunct  to  the  pulpit 
and  the  ministry. 

It  is  in  this  light  that  his  sterling  ability  and  zeal  have 
been  recognized  by  the  Holy  Father.  The  universal 
opinion  is  that  the  choice  is  the  best  that  could  be  made. 
Those  who  know  Rev.  Fr.  Delany  believe  he  will  more 
than  fill  the  highest  expectations  of  his  friends  as  an 
administrator,  an  organizer,  and  a  missionary. 

THE  PILOT,    BOSTON. 

With  all  the  cares  of  responsible  offices,  and  his  work 
as  chaplain  and  confessor  of  several  religious  communi- 
ties, Father  Delany  founded  The  Guidon,  an  excellent 
illustrated  monthly  magazine,  which  he  has  edited  with 
singular  ability  until  now.  It  has  been  the  official  organ 
of  the  diocese,  and  it  has  had  a  great  educative  value  in 
diffusing  among  the  people  a  knowledge  of  sacred  art 
and  of  past  and  current  Church  history.  It  must  be 
said,  also,  as  of  everything  in  which  its  editor  has 
had  a  hand,  that  it  has  been  a  success  on  the  busi- 
ness side. 

His  close  association  with  Bishop  Bradley  has  given 
him  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  affairs  of  the  dio- 
cese, and  in  his  direct,  simple,  and  kindly  nature  he 
is  very  like  his  beloved  predecessor.  Bishop-elect 
Delany  is  scarcely  thirty-nine  years  of  age.  He  takes 
charge  of  a  diocese  whose  priesthood  is  singularly 
united.  Priests  and  people  rejoice  in  the  youth, 
strength,  and  energy  of  their  new  Bishop,  and  all  his 
friends  unite  with  these  in  wishing  him  many  years 
to  build  up  the  Church  of  God  on  the  broad  founda- 
tions which  are  his  happy  heritage. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  277 

THE   REPUBLIC,    BOSTON. 

The  appointment  of  Father  Delany  is  a  distinct 
tribute  to  his  excellent  work  as  secretary  and  chancellor 
of  the  diocese,  during-  the  long-  episcopate  of  the  late 
Rt.  Rev.  Denis  M.  Bradley,  and  his  excellent  cooper- 
ation with  the  Very  Rev.  Eugene  M.  O'Callaghan 
since  Bishop  Bradley 's  death  in  the  administration 
of  the  diocese. 

Father  Delany  has  had  a  bright,  brilliant,  and  beau- 
tiful career.  He  is  a  Boston  College  graduate,  and  with 
Bishop  O'Connell  of  Portland  comprises  that  institu- 
tion's showing-  in  the  episcopacy  of  New  England. 
A  man  of  culture  and  very  talented,  his  literary  work 
has  been  a  feature  of  his  efforts.  For  years  he  has 
very  ably  edited  The  Guidon,  the  illustrated  Catho- 
lic monthly  of  the  diocese. 

THE  CATHOLIC  TRANSCRIPT,  HARTFORD. 

Official  announcement  of  the  election  of  the  Rev. 
John  B.  Delany  to  the  Bishopric  of  Manchester  has 
followed  repeated  rumor,  and  there  is  joy  among  the 
Catholics  of  New  Hampshire.  The  Bishop-elect  is 
known  throughout  the  diocese  and  far  beyond  its 
limits.  He  is  a  man  of  many  works  and,  though 
young  in  years,  is  old  in  achievements. 

Bishop  Bradley,  quick  to  discern  the  capabilities  of 
the  zealous  Father  Delany,  called  the  young  priest  to 
his  personal  assistance  and  named  him  Chancellor  of 
the  See  of  Manchester.  He  found  in  the  youthful 
official  a  veritable  Lawrence. 

Of  true  apostolic  timber,  Father  Delany  suffered 
his  zeal  to  carry  him  far  beyond  the  walls  of  the 
chancery  and  beyond  the  limits  of  the  episcopal  city. 
Like  St.  Paul,  he  was  impatient  for  the  conversion 
of  those  without,  and  so  he  labored  with  tongue  and 


278  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

pen  —  but  always  wisely  and  with  splendid  success. 
The  non-Catholic  missionary  movement  found  in  him 
an  able  champion.  He  is,  and  no  doubt  will  continue 
to  be  the  editor  and  leading  spirit  of  The  Guidon — a 
periodical  which  commands  the  respect  of  Catholics 
wherever  it  is  read. 

There  is  no  more  indefatigable  worker  in  the  Ca- 
tholic Church  of  New  England  than  Bishop-elect  Delany. 
His  advancement  to  the  episcopate  is  a  recognition 
of  demonstrated  worth.  We  have  no  doubt  that  the  same 
zeal  and  success  which  characterized  him  as  chancellor, 
editor,  and  missionary,  will  attend  him  in  the  higher 
labors  of  the  episcopate. 

The  second  Bishop  of  Manchester  succeeds  to  a  dio- 
cese well  ordered  and  prosperous.  He  brings  to  the 
exacting  duties  of  bis  post  exceptional  equipment. 
His  Paris  education  will  make  him  a  power  among  the 
French  speaking  portion  of  his  flock.  His  experience 
as  missionary  and  writer  will  enable  him  to  speak 
forcefully  and  send  his  voice  from  end  to  end  of  his 
diocese. 

Amid  his  manifold  duties  as  chancellor  and  editor, 
Father  Delany  found  time  now  and  again  to  court 
the  Muse.  His  verses  have  about  them  a  flavor  of 
true  Christian  poetry.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  ex- 
alted cares  of  the  episcopate  will  silence  neither 
preacher,  nor  editor,  nor  poet.  Leo  XIII.  indited  in- 
spiring stanzas,  even  when  weighed  down  with  years 
and  with  the  care  of  all  the  churches.  May  his 
spirit  descend  upon  Manchester,  bringing  with  it 
longevity  and  ever-increasing  intellectual  vigor. 

L'AVENIR  NATIONAL,  MANCHESTER. 

The  nomination  of  the  Rev.  John  Bernard  Delany 
as  Bishop  of  Manchester  is  officially  announced. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  279 

This  nomination  will  bring-  satisfaction  to  the  dif- 
ferent elements  of  which  are  composed  the  Catholics 
of  New  Hampshire,  particularly  to  those  of  Irish 
descent,  who,  though  in  the  minority,  have  again  suc- 
ceeded in  having-  a  bishop  of  their  own  nationality. 

The  French  Catholics  would  have  greatly  desired  a 
bishop  taken  from  the  ranks  of  their  own  clergy.  It 
was  a  legitimate  desire.  But  they  are  consoled  in 
their  disappointment  by  the  fact  that  they  look  at 
the  Bishop-elect  as  almost  one  of  their  own,  consider- 
ing his  profound  knowledge  of  the  French  language. 
We  must  bear  in  mind  that  for  four  years  Father 
Delany  studied  theology  in  the  celebrated  Seminary 
of  St.  Sulpice  in  Paris,  where  he  became  familiar 
with  French  ideas  and  imbued  with  the  French 
spirit. 

We  are  told  that  the  members  of  our  French- 
American  clergy  are  most  satisfied  with  this  nomina- 
tion, that  in  fact  the  majority  of  them  had  desired  it. 
Under  the  circumstances  it  is  a  duty,  and  without 
doubt  a  pleasure,  for  the  French-American  faithful 
to  share  the  satisfaction  of  their  pastors. 

The  episcopal  throne  of  Manchester  will  be  held  by 
a  titular  highly  qualified  in  every  respect.  Having 
for  many  years  filled  the  office  of  chancellor,  he  is 
familiar  with  all  the  needs  of  the  diocese,  and  no  one 
is  better  equipped  than  he  to  continue  the  works  of 
the  prelate  whose  zeal,  charity,  and  tireless  labor  for 
the  glory  of  God  and  salvation  of  souls  will  long  be 
remembered. 

We  feel  convinced  that  the  Rev.  Father  Delany 
will  show  the  same  kind  of  administrative  ability  that 
distinguished  his  regretted  predecessor.  Relatively 
a  young  man,  he  is  learned,  full  of  ardor  for  the 
works  of  his  ministry,  he  is  just,  and  loved,  and  revered 
by  all  his  fellow-citizens  to  whatever  religious  denomi- 
nation they  belong. 


280  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

LSAvenir  National  expresses  the  sentiments  of  all 
the  French-Catholics  of  New  Hampshire  in  placing  at 
the  feet  of  his  Lordship,  Bishop  Delany,  the  homage 
of  their  filial  devotion  and  entire  submission. 

THE  ARGUS,    PORTLAND. 

The  Rt.  Rev.  John  Bernard  Delany,  D.  D.,  successor 
to  the  beloved  Bishop  Bradley,  assumes  charge  of  the 
flourishing  diocese  of  Manchester,  N.  HM  under  the 
most  auspicious  circumstances.  He  is  the  youngest 
prelate  in  New  England,  and  one  who  enjoys  the  esteem 
and  respect  of  all  who  know  him.  In  many  respects 
he  resembles  his  predecessor,  who  was  the  youngest 
bishop  in  the  United  States  when  consecrated  twenty 
years  ago.  Bishop  Delany  has  reached  his  fortieth 
year  and  the  thirteenth  of  his  priesthood.  He  is  strong 
and  vigorous  in  body,  well  and  carefully  trained  intellec- 
tually, with  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  English  and 
French  languages,  an  essential  requirement  for  the 
diocese  of  Manchester. 

As  chancellor  and  private  secretary  to  the  late  Bishop 
for  the  past  six  years,  he  became  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  affairs  and  management  of  the  diocese,  and  by 
his  zeal,  industry,  and  prudence  won  the  esteem  and 
confidence  of  his  Bishop.  As  editor  of  The  Guidon 
since  the  time  of  its  inception,  his  scholarly  attainments 
have  been  widely  recognized  and  highly  enjoyed  by  all 
readers  of  current  Catholic  literature. 

The  new  Bishop  is  a  prime  favorite  with  the  young 
men  of  the  State.  He  has  been  for  many  years  spirit- 
ual director  of  the  Knights  of  Columbus,  a  society  ex- 
erting a  far-reaching  influence  not  only  throughout  New 
Hampshire  but  likewise  in  all  the  great  cities  of  the 
United  States  and  Canada. 

Bishop  Delany  is  to  be  congratulated  in  presiding 
over  a  diocese  so  well  equipped  as  that  of  Manchester, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  281 

with  a  population  of  upwards  of  one  hundred  and  four 
thousand  devoted  Catholics,  one  hundred  and  seven 
priests,  and  nearly  four  hundred  religious  teachers  hav- 
ing- under  their  care  thirteen  thousand  pupils.  The 
diocese  and  city  of  Manchester  are  blessed  with  a  fine 
diocesan  college,  one  of  the  best  hospitals  in  the  State, 
and  charitable  institutions  for  young  and  old.  That 
Bishop  Delany  will  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  saintly 
predecessor  goes  without  saying. 

SACRED   HEART   REVIEW,    BOSTON. 

It  is  gratifying  to  know  that  the  nominee — the  Rev. 
John  B.  Delany — of  the  Manchester  priests  under  the 
presidency  of  the  Archbishop  of  Boston  has  been  ap- 
pointed to  succeed  the  late  Bishop  Bradley.  After  all, 
the  clergy  of  the  diocese  have  the  best  means  of  know- 
ing the  merits  of  their  fellow  priests;  their  deliberate 
choice  is  in  itself  a  high  honor  as  well  as  a  proof  of 
supereminence.  The  Holy  Scriptures  enumerate  some- 
what in  detail  the  characteristics  of  a  bishop;  he  should 
be  blameless,  sober,  prudent,  hospitable,  and  "more- 
over he  must  have  a  good  testimony  of  them  who  are 
without."  This  "good  testimony"  of  the  Protestants 
of  New  Hampshire  to  Bishop  Delany's  worth  is  posi- 
tive and  outspoken.  The  Manchester  Union,  speaking 
for  the  Protestants  of  the  State,  saysthatBishopDelany's 
appointment  "will  be  received  with  profound  satisfac- 
tion throughout  the  State"  and  that  "he  is  loved  and 
respected  wherever  he  is  known." 

We  should  offer  the  good  Bishop  not  simply  our  con- 
gratulations but  our  prayers  also,  that  God  in  the 
future  as  in  the  past  may  be  with  him.  His  duties 
and  responsibilities  now  are  greater  than  ever,  for  now 
he  is  in  a  special  manner  the  steward  of  God.  Here- 
after the  apostle's  warning  must  be  constantly  before 


282  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

his  eyes:  "Take  heed  to  yourself  and  to  the  whole 
flock  wherein  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  placed  you  Bishop 
to  rule  the  Church  of  God." 

THE  GUIDON. 

The  first  editor  of  The  Guidon,  the  Rt.  Rev.  John 
B.  Delany,  has  turned  apostle  and  become  a  prince 
of  the  Church.  He  received  episcopal  consecration 
in  his  own  cathedral,  Thursday,  Sept.  8th,  at  the  hands 
of  the  apostolic  delegate,  the  Most  Reverend  Diomede 
Falconio,  D.  D.  We  wish  to  add  our  heartfelt  con- 
gratulations to  the  chorus  of  voices  which  have  greeted 
him  with  joy  on  his  accession  to  the  See  of  Manches- 
ter, and  to  hail  him  as  our  spiritual  chief.  A  brief 
eight  months  ago  sorrow  filled  our  hearts  when  death 
claimed  our  first  and  ever-to-be  lamented  Bishop 
Bradley,  a  prelate  whose  great  works  for  God's  glory, 
whose  self-sacrifice,  learning,  simplicity,  and  true 
humility  must  serve  to  secure  for  him  a  lasting  place 
in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  a  devoted  clergy  and  laity. 
But,  to-day,  sorrow  gives  place  to  joy  as  we  welcome 
his  successor,  appointed  by  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  Pius 
X.;  and  we  bespeak  for  him  the  same  affection,  re- 
spect, and  esteem  which  was  ever  shown  to  good 
Bishop  Bradley.  It  could  not  be  otherwise,  for  in 
Bishop  Delany  we  behold  goodness  of  soul,  greatness 
of  intellect,  integrity  of  life,  sanctity  of  morals,  and 
an  apostolic  zeal  which  will  prompt  him  to  consecrate 
all  his  strength  to  the  services  of  the  Church  of 
Christ.  In  him  we  firmly  believe  that  the  priests  of 
the  diocese  will  find  a  kind,  most  charitable,  and 
most  exemplary  Bishop;  the  people,  a  faithful  spiritual 
father  and  true  friend,  and  the  Church  a  pious  and 
most  devoted  servant.  We  all  unite  in  asking  the 
divine  blessing  upon  him,  that  he  may  have  the  grace 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  283 

and  power  of  an  apostle  now  that  he  is  in  the  seat 
of  the  apostles.  May  God  grant  him  length  of  days, 
health,  and  joy  to  "go  on  prosperously  and  to  reign" 
over  a  loving-  and  beloved  flock. 


BISHOP  DELANY'S  LETTER  ON  THE  JUBILEE. 
Reverend  and  Dear  Father: 

In  conformity  with  the  wish  of  our  Holy  Father, 
the  Pope,  we  hereby  proclaim  the  jubilee  in  honor 
of  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Blessed  Mother 
of  Our  Saviour.  This  jubilee  is  intended  to  commem- 
orate the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  definition  of  that 
dogma  of  our  holy  faith  which  declares  that  Mary, 
the  Mother  of  Jesus,  was  conceived  without  sin. 

It  is  the  desire  of  the  Holy  Father  that,  during 
these  days  of  grace,  the  faithful  throughout  the  world 
manifest  by  special  and  signal  acts  of  religion  their 
love  and  devotion  for  the  Blessed  Mother  of  God. 

Called  to  the  office  of  Bishop,  we  had  the  happi- 
ness to  be  consecrated  on  the  feast  of  Our  Lady's 
nativity  and  it  is,  then,  a  source  of  sincere  joy  that 
our  first  official  announcement  to  all  the  flock  com- 
mitted to  our  care  should  be  to  proclaim  this  jubilee 
of  prayer  in  honor  of  our  Blessed  Mother  in  Heaven. 
As  loyal  subjects  of  the  Church  and  as  loving  clients 
of  Mary  we  are  sure  that  the  faithful  of  the  diocese 
will  hail  with  joy  the  opportunity  to  honor  her  whom 
God  honored  above  all  creatures,  and  to  invoke  the 
aid  of  her  whom  God  made  the  dispenser  of  His 
bounties. 

Wherefore  we  declare  that  the  time  of  gaining  the 
indulgences  of  the  jubilee  will  be  from  the  first  Sun- 
day of  October  to  the  8th  of  December  inclusive. 

The  conditions  required  for  gaining  the  plenary 
indulgence  are  these: 

1.     Three  visits  to  the  church. 


284  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

2.  One  day  of  fast  and  abstinence. 

3.  Confession   and    Holy  Communion  and  a  prayer 
for  the  intention  of  our  Holy  Father  the  Pope. 

As  to  the  visits  prescribed:  Incur  episcopal  city  we 
require  that  the  members  of  all  parishes  shall  make 
the  jubilee  visits  to  the  Cathedral  church.  In  other 
places  these  visits  may  be  made  to  the  parish  church. 
All  three  may  be  made  on  the  same  day. 

Those  living  in  religious  communities  may  make 
these  visits  to  their  house  chapel. 

The  fast  required,  by  commutation  of  the  Bishop, 
is  the  usual  Lenten  fast,  allowing  the  use  of  milk, 
butter,  eggs,  and  cheese.  Confessors  may  substitute 
acts  of  piety  for  those  who,  by  reason  of  age  or  infirm- 
ity, are  unable  to  comply  with  this  general  condition. 

We  recommend  pastors  to  appoint  certain  days  as 
days  of  retreat  when  more  than  the  ordinary  facilities 
can  be  given  the  people  to  approach  the  sacraments. 

The  extraordinary  faculties  granted  to  confessors 
during  this  time  will  be  found  and  explained  in  the 
circular  accompanying  this  letter. 

It  is  our  intention  to  leave  for  Rome  within  a  short 
time  and,  in  response  to  the  invitation  of  the  Holy 
Father,  to  assist  at  the  magnificent  ceremonies  of  the 
jubilee  at  the  tomb  of  the  apostles.  Rev.  dear  Father, 
we  shall  have  you  and  your  people  continually  in  our 
mind  and  frequently  in  our  heart  in  fervent  prayer. 
Pray  then  for  us  that  God  may  prosper  the  long 
journey  and  bring  us  back  to  resume  the  great  work 
committed  to  our  care.  Extending  to  one  and  all  my 
episcopal  benediction,  I  remain 

Yours  faithfully  in  Christ  Jesus, 
^    JOHN  BERNARD, 

Bishop  of  Manchester. 
Given  at  Manchester, 
Sept.  28,  1904. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  285 

One  month  after  his  consecration,  in  response  to  the 
invitation  of  Pope  Pius  X.  to  the  Bishops  of  the  world 
to  assist  in  Rome  at  the  celebration  of  the  fiftieth  anni- 
versary of  the  definition  of  the  Dog-ma  of  the  Immaculate 
Conception,  the  new  Bishop,  accompanied  by  two  of  his 
sisters  and  his  intimate  friend,  Father  Anderson, 
now  Auxiliary  Bishop  of  Boston,  sailed  for  Europe. 
Before  going-  to  Rome  he  spent  some  weeks  revisit- 
ing- the  places  endeared  to  him  during-  his  seminary 
days. 

The  following-  extracts  from  his  letters  written 
during  his  travels  in  Ireland,  England,  France,  and 
Italy  tell  of  the  pleasant  days  spent  in  the  Old 
World  :— 

Manchester,  Oct.  9,  1904. 
My  dear  Sister: 

Here  I  am  almost  on  the  eve  of  my  departure  and 
I  come  to  say  good-bye.  As  you  can  imagine  I  have 
been  very  busy  since  the  consecration  and  will  be 
£rlad  to  get  away.  I  have  confirmed  fully  a  thousand, 
dedicated  two  churches,  given  all  the  orders  from 
tonsure  up  and  ordained  four  priests,  to  say  nothing 
of  all  the  receptions  and  dinners  I  have  attended  and 
the  schools  and  convents  I  have  visited.  At  all  of 
these  I  was  obliged  to  speak. 

It  seems  like  six  months  instead  of  one  since  I 
have  been  a  Bishop,  but  only  because  of  hurry,  not 
worry. 

I  have  never  felt  better  in  my  life,  and  am  in  good 
condition  to  enjoy  the  trip  abroad.  You  will  hear  from 
us  as  we  go  along,  and  I  will  ask  the  Pope  for  a  special 
blessing  for  you  and  Trinity. 

This  is  only  a  little  word  to  tell  you  how  happy  we  all 
are,  to  say  good-bye  for  a  little  while,  and  to  give  you 
my  heartfelt  blessing. 

Your  own  Bishop, 

JOHN. 


286  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Lakes  of  Killarney,  Oct.  24,  1904. 

We  have  just  returned  from  a  tour  of  the  Lakes,  and 
I  want  to  tell  you  of  the  good  time  we  had.  No  matter 
about  the  voyage,  and  I  won't  say  anything  about  Cork, 
for  the  weather  was  "beastly,"  as  the  English  call  it. 
We  forgive  all  for  to-day's  pleasant  experience.  How 
fortunate  we  were!  Here,  in  the  midst  of  an  Irish 
winter  of  cold  and  rain,  we  had  a  day  as  fine  as  any  in 
June,  and  probably  the  last  of  its  kind  for  months. 

After  Mass  at  an  old  cathedral,  eleventh  century 
model,  we  were  off.  Picture  a  side  car,  the  two  girls  in 
traveling  suits,  Father  A with  his  soft  hat  and  Eng- 
lish raincoat,  myself  with  the  old  cap,  and  a  jarvey  with 
little  white  side  whiskers  and  the  richest,  sweetest 
brogue  you  ever  listened  to.  All  along  the  road  he 
pointed  out  the  beautiful  places,  told  fairy  tales,  quoted 
poetry,  paid  compliments  to  the  ladies,  and  "  milord  "- 
ed  me.  Along  the  green  lanes,  by  haunted  houses, 
lordly  demesnes,  and  little  thatched  cottages  we  drove  in 
the  glorious  sunlight,  until  we  came  to  the  Gap  of  Dun- 
loe  and  Kate  Kearney's  cottage.  Here  we  all  mounted 
horses — quiet  little  fellows  they  were,  to  be  sure — but 
horses,  nevertheless.  Up  the  narrow  mountain  we 
started.  The  ascent  was  gradual  and  of  course  per- 
fectly safe,  and  we  tried  to  look  unconscious  and  accus- 
tomed to  it,  but  if  the  pony  started  on  a  little  jog  the 
bouncing  he  gave  us  showed  we  were  all  very  green  at 
the  business.  I  wish  I  could  describe  the  trip,  but  it 
must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated.  Narrower  and  narrow- 
er the  mountains  converge,  steeper  and  steeper  they 
rise  on  both  sides,  their  rugged  surfaces  covered  in 
spots  with  the  heather,  now  turned  to  a  rich  brown 
color.  Up,  up  we  go  and  turn  and  twist  along  the  side 
of  a  stream  or  lake,  over  quaint  stone  bridges  built  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago,  stopping  to  look  back  through  the 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  287 

opening's  in  the  mountains  to  a  stretch  of  fertile  plain 
beyond,  topped  by  a  gorgeous  sky  of  clouds.  Our  pony 
boys — so  called,  though  one  of  them  must  have  been 
sixty — told  all  the  legends  of  the  places  we  passed — 
stories  of  the  devil,  St.  Patrick,  and  Colleen  Bawn.  Here 
and  there  we  passed — though  never  without  stopping — 
a  little  wayside  inn,  where  goat's  milk  was  sold.  Bare- 
footed beggars  followed  us,  and  such  persistent  rogues 
were  hard  to  find.  After  two  hours  without  dismount- 
ing we  came  to  the  head  waters  of  the  Lakes.  To  ease 
our  tired  bones  we  sat  in  a  charming  little  grove  and 
had  tea. 

Our  boatmen  were  waiting  for  us,  and  at  three  we 
began  our  trip.  The  hotel  people  had  provided  a  dainty 
lunch.  A  good  appetite  did  the  rest  as  we  sped  over  the 
waters.  The  Upper  Lake  is  in  the  midst  of  the  high 
mountains,  and  the  low  October  sun  lighted  all  with 
glory.  Surely  it  is  hardly  exaggeration  to  say — 

"Angels  fold  their  wings  and  rest 
In  this  haven  of  the  west," 

for  it  seems  but  a  step  from  the  top  of  these  sun- 
capped  hills  into  heaven. 

Our  boatmen  were  types.  All  along,  one  of  them, 
Mick  Gleason,  told  stories  and  sang  songs.  One  of  the 
songs  told  of  a  wedding,  and  brought  in  as  guests  all 
the  personages  of  history  from  Nebuchadnezzar  and 
Alexander  the  Great  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  He  point- 
ed out  the  footprints  on  the  rocks  where  giants  leaped 
across  the  stream.  Here  I  won  a  wager  with  him — a 
kind  of  "heads  I  win  and  tails  you  lose."  We  came  to  a 
bend  in  the  Lake  with  no  visible  outlet  but  a  number  of 
little  bays.  We  were  to  find  the  way  out.  The  rest  of 
the  party  guessed  this  one  and  that,  but  I  dropped  my 
cigar  ashes  into  the  water  and  watched  the  direction  it 
took.  My  guess  was  right. 


288  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

A  winding-  river-road  of  five  miles,  with  a  new  scene 
at  every  turn,  leads  to  the  Middle  Lake.  On  the  way 
Mick  told  us  of  his  matrimonial  experiences.  He  had 
been  married  three  times.  The  first  wife,  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  world,  God  took  to  Himself  after 
six  months  of  wedded  bliss.  The  second  wife  God 
took  also.  The  third  !  he  only  wished  and  prayed  that 
God  would  take  her,  for  she  was  the  bane  of  his  life.  He 
told  us  of  his  pride  and  joy  at  having  rowed  Cardinal 
Vanutelli  over  the  same  course.  Whenever  he  spoke  of 
him  he  raised  his  cap  and  called  him  "His  Immense.*' 

Along-  we  sped  to  the  Lower  Lake.  The  great  hills 
behind  us  were  shrouded  in  black,  but  the  water  be- 
fore us  was  like  a  sea  of  gold.  A  purple  sky,  and 
one  lone  bright  star,  with  Ross  Castle,  marked  our 
way.  Innisfallen,  the  most  historic  and  sacred  spot 
in  Ireland,  lay  beside  us.  The  little  islands  in  this 
light  looked  what  their  names  described — O'Donog- 
hue's  Prison,  O'Donoghue's  Dove  Cote.  A  quiet  bay 
before  landing-,  and  Mick  entertained  us  once  more 
with  a  vocal  selection,  this  time  "The  Cruiskeen  Lawn" 
with  variations  of  words  and  music  of  his  own.  The 
golden  moon  was  just  rising-  above  the  ivy-covered 
castle  as  we  reached  the  landing  at  its  foot.  Our 
side-car  was  waiting,  and  off  we  were  for  a  two  mile 
drive  and  home.  So  ended  the  happy  day.  Good 
night.  God  bless  you. 

Paris,  Nov.    3,  1904. 

This  is  my  first  night  in  Paris  and  I  spend  it  in 
writing  to  you.  The  rest  of  the  party  have  gone  to  the 
theatre.  After  supper  I  went  to  St.  Sulpice,  the  dear  old 
place  of  long  ago,  and  found  your  letters  there  and 
pleased  I  was  to  get  them.  Of  course  you  have  my 
"Irish"  letter  by  this  time,  and  I  hope  it  put  any 
fears  as  to  my  health  at  rest.  I  was  never  better  in 
my  life,  but  am  getting  fat —  how  ungenteel. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  289 

Where  shall  I  begin  this  time?  Perhaps  I  had  better 
tell  you  briefly  what  we  have  done  so  far.  Well,  we 
saw  Limerick.  Next  we  visited  the  place  where 
Father  was  born  and  saw  the  "slate  house"  we  had 
heard  so  much  about  and  the  good,  simple  souls  re- 
maining there.  We  took  some  snap-shots,  and  if  they 
come  out  they  will  tell  their  own  story,  but  they  can't 
tell  the  awe  and  reverence  with  which  I  was  received 
under  their  humble  roof. 

Dublin  proved  very  interesting  to  the  girls,  and  we 
saw  everything  of  importance.  We  had  a  letter  to  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Delany,  head  of  the  Catholic  University, 
founded  by  Newman,  and  we  learned  more  of  the 
family  from  him  than  we  had  known  before.  He 
told  us  that  in  scholarship  the  University  has  won 
more  honors  than  all  the  royal  universities  in  Ireland 
put  together.  Six  of  the  professors  are  government 
fellows  and  their  salary  is  the  principal  income  of 
the  institution.  He  also  told  us  something  of  Newman 
who  founded  this  university.  On  a  visit  to  the  Car- 
dinal, Dr.  Delany  begged  his  blessing  and  asked  for 
an  occasional  prayer  for  the  success  of  the  univer- 
sity. The  Cardinal  answered: — "I  have  never  said 
Mass  since  the  day  I  left,  but  I  make  a  special  me- 
mento for  the  Catholic  University  of  Ireland,  for  I 
know  of  its  need  and  the  powerful  good  it  can  become 
for  the  greater  glory  of  God." 

In  London  we  had  real  London  weather,  fog  but  no 
rain  to  speak  of.  I  said  Mass  at  the  new  cathedral 
and  assisted  at  the  service  on  Sunday  morning  and 
evening.  The  music  was  superb  and  by  choir  boys 
entirely.  I  met  the  Archbishop  and  had  a  pleasant 
visit  with  him. 

The  night  of  All  Souls  we  went  to  the  Brompton  Ora- 
tory where  Faber  and  Newman  lived  and  saw  a  beautiful 


290  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

procession  of  the  Confraternity  of  the  Precious  Blood, 
a  society  established  by  Faber.  Of  course  Westmin- 
ster came  in  for  its  share  of  attention,  with  its  mon- 
uments of  illustrious  dead,  names  so  familiar  that  these 
brought  close  to  us.  Some  of  the  most  touching 
were  Edward  the  Confessor,  a  saint  in  very  bad  com- 
pany; Mary  Stuart;  poets  and  writers — the  soldiers; 
I  care  little  about, — they  wrote,  too,  but  wrote  in  blood. 

During-  these  stormy  days,  when  England  is  roused 
at  the  outrage  of  the  North  Sea,  as  it  is  called,  I  think 
I  can  understand  better  than  ever  one  secret  of  the 
patriotism  of  her  people  She  knows  how  to  reward 
her  servants.  Living,  she  grudges  them  nothing  by 
way  of  honors,  titles  to  themselves  and  their  posterity, 
palaces,  and  wealth;  the  dead,  she  hallows  their  mem- 
ory by  every  way  art  can  devise.  Is  not  this  an 
inspiration?  Yet  how  cruel  the  story  her  monuments 
tell!  Here  is  Cromwell,  the  destroyer  of  the  Church, 
and  Henry  VIII.  and  Elizabeth.  Here  are  the  beautiful 
cathedrals  turned  over  for  Protestant  worship,  or  left 
in  mouldering  ruins,  and  a  whole  country  bereft  of  the 
true  religion. 

We  visited  London  Tower,  and  saw  the  cells  where 
so  many  illustrious  prisoners  were  kept,  saw  the  axe 
and  block  where  they  were  beheaded,  and  the  spot 
where  Anne  Boleyn  was  executed.  We  visited  Hamp- 
ton Court,  built  by  Wolsey,  coveted  by  Henry  and 
presented  to  him.  The  chapel  stands  just  as  it  did 
in  his  day.  It  was  here  he  was  married  three  times, 
and  the  royal  box  is  shown  where  Anne,  escaping  from 
her  keepers,  besought  the  king  to  spare  her  life,  but 
in  vain. 

We  stopped  at  Stratford  and  Oxford  on  the  way  to 
London,  and  enjoyed  the  sight  of  these  historic  places. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  291 

Genoa,  November  16,  1904. 

Our  stay  at  Paris  was  very  pleasant.  I  had  the 
opportunity  to  visit  old  scenes  and  old  friends,  both 
rejoiced  me  very  much.  I  said  Mass  at  St.  Sulpice, 
at  the  altar  where  I  said  "my  first  Mass;  visited  Issy 
where  I  came  for  the  first  time,  as  a  student,  thirteen 
years  before  and,  of  course,  was  received  right  royally 
everywhere.  Poor  old  St.  Sulpice  was  as  I  left  it. 
Even  the  seminarians  looked  so  natural  that  I  was  al- 
most on  the  point  of  calling-  them  by  name,  so  much 
did  they  resemble  their  prototypes  of  my  day.  The 
old  "concierge"  remembered  me,  called  me  by  name 
without  hesitation,  and  was  overjoyed  to  learn  that  I 
was  now  a  bishop.  The  few  old  professors  remaining 
were  like  children  in  their  reverence,  love,  and  simpli- 
city. I  dined  with  the  Community  at  Issy,  and  the 
boys  had  "Deo  Gratias"  in  my  honor.  Since  I  was 
there  they  have  finished  the  new  part  and  added  a 
beautiful  chapel,  so  exquisite,  that  I  know  of  nothing 
better  in  all  of  Paris.  A  cloud  of  sorrow  hangs  over 
all.  It  is  the  iniquitous  laws  that  are  now  being  en- 
forced. The  Sulpicians  have  been  given  their  notice 
to  leave  and  all  is  blank  before  them. 

In  the  crypt  of  the  new  chapel  are  the  cells  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  and  Paul  Segnany,  a  seminarian 
of  St.  Sulpice,  who  was  shot  during  the  Commune,  and 
a  piece  of  the  wall  against  which  they  stood. 

Paris  is  a  gay  place,  it  is  true,  and  a  wicked  one, 
too,  if  we  can  judge  by  what  appears  on  the  surface, 
but  for  me  it  has,  and  it  will  always  have,  holy  mem- 
ories above  all  other  places  in  the  world.  After  seeing 
the  gay  places  until  my  sisters  wondered  if  any  holy 
places  could  be  found  there  at  all,  I  showed  them  some 
of  these.  We  went  to  the  Church  of  the  Carmes  — 
a  place  where  visitors  seldom  go,  but  one  well  known 


292  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

to  me.  It  is  occupied  now  by  the  Catholic  University, 
and  an  old  professor  of  mine  is  its  president.  In  the 
crypt  are  the  skulls  and  bones  of  more  than  a  hundred 
priests  who  were  slain  during-  the  Revolution.  Here, 
too,  is  a  cross  on  which  Lacordaire  had  himself  sus- 
pended during1  three  hours  on  Good  Friday.  Here 
also,  is  the  simple  slab  that  marks  the  grave  of  Fred- 
erick Ozanam.  One  of  the  presidents  of  this  institution 
was  Cardinal  Lavigerie.  It  is  just  such  men  as  these 
three  that  France  needs  now,  but  they  do  not  seem 
to  be  in  sight. 

Every  day  brings  new  stories  of  tyranny  and  per- 
secution in  the  treatment  of  religious  orders,  especially 
in  what  concerns  the  women.  I  heard  of  one  case 
where  two  Sisters,  sisters  by  blood,  and  nuns  of  the 
same  convent,  were  obliged  to  leave  with  the  rest. 
They  naturally  went  together.  When  the  authorities 
found  this  out,  these  poor  women  were  told  they  must 
separate — "two  made  a  community"  and  was  forbidden 
by  law. 

Here  is  a  piece  of  information  that  I  venture  to  say 
will  not  receive  wide  circulation.  While  I  was  still  in 
Paris,  a  hot  scene  occurred  in  the  "Chambre  des  De- 
put<£s.  It  was  shown  that  the  Ministry  employed  the 
Masonic  lodges  to  spy  on  army  officers  and  report 
to  the  Minister  of  War.  After  denying  this  for  a  week 
and  lying  shamelessly,  proof  was  produced  and  the  fact 
was  admitted.  If  the  wife  of  an  officer  went  to  Mass 
or  the  children  attended  a  Catholic  school,  this  story 
was  duly  recorded  and  promotion  refused  the  officer. 

The  Minister  of  War,  Andre\  was  struck  by  a  de- 
pute\  Sventon.  Two  duels  resulted  with  the  usual 
ridiculous  ending.  This  fact,  perhaps  better  than  any 
other,  shows  who  and  what  are  at  the  bottom  of  the 
present  religious  persecution.  It  shows  this,  too,  that 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  293 

a  government  where  merit,  capacity,  service,  and  hon- 
esty are  passed  over,  and  where  promotion  and  pre- 
ferment depend  on  simulation  and  moral  cowardice, 
that  government  cannot  long  stand.  Imagine  what 
must  be  the  feelinsr  of  honest,  patriotic  soldiers  and 
sailors  to  realize  that  they  are  governed  by  such 
men.  France  is  laying  up  a  store  for  herself  in  the 
great  day  of  wrath. 

Another  feature  of  Paris  to-day  is  the  shocking 
pictures  and  literature  found  everywhere.  These 
things  have  not  even  the  excuse  of  art.  They  are 
low,  stupid,  brutal  in  their  sensuality.  This  seems 
to  be  part  of  the  propaganda  to  demoralize  the  people. 
#*********** 

The  Riviera  is  a  little  earthly  paradise.  Always 
summer,  not  a  burning,  wasting  summer,  but  almost 
like  our  month  of  June.  The  great  mountains  came 
down  to  the  water  edge  and  often  project  in  promon- 
tories far  out  to  sea,  making  those  beautiful  harbors, 
such  as  Nice,  Monaco,  and  Villefranche. 

The  palm  is  found  everywhere;  oranges,  lemons, 
olives,  grow  in  profusion,  and  the  walls  and  roadsides 
are  covered  with  beautiful  flowers.  The  hills  are 
dotted  with  castles  and  villas  with  here  and  there  a 
little  village,  its  church  spire  rising  between  the  trees. 
The  tops  of  the  highest  mountains  are  crowned  with 
fortifications  guarding  the  approaches  from  the  fron- 
tier. 

The  drive  from  Nice  to  Monte  Carlo  is  sublime. 
Up,  up  winds  the  road  along  the  face  of  the  cliff.  Every 
turn  brings  a  new  scene,  and  most  of  the  journey 
we  are  in  sight  of  the  blue  Mediterranean.  At  places, 
we  could  lay  our  hand  on  a  precipice  that  rose  a 
thousand  feet  in  sheer  ascent  above  us,  and  look 
below  into  a  chasm  a  thousand  feet  in  depth.  Then 


294  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Monaco  and  Monte  Carlo  came  into  view,  lying-  far 
below  us  and  extending1  out  into  the  sea.  It  is  im- 
possible to  describe  the  grandeur  of  the  scene. 

Monte  Carlo  is  a  town  apart  from  Monaco  but 
forming-  one  principality  with  it.  The  Casino,  of 
course,  is  the  principal  attraction. 

We  dined  with  the  cure'  of  the  Church  of  St.   Devote*, 

a  friend  of   Father  A 's,  and  called  upon  the  bishop 

after  dinner.  Monday  night  was  like  a  night  in  fairy- 
land. It  was  the  f£te  of  the  Prince  and  the  town  was 
illuminated.  Such  a  scene!  The  buildings  all  along  the 
shore  and  on  the  hills  about  were  outlined  with  lights 
of  various  colors,  as  the  moon  rose  over  all  and  lighted 
up  the  beautiful  bay.  If  Monaco  is  a  paradise  by 
day,  it  is  a  fairyland  by  night. 

On  the  hill  overlooking  Nice  we  visited  an  old 
Monastery,  occupied  for  five  hundred  years  by 
Franciscans.  These  have  been  chased  away  with  the 
rest,  but  the  cur£  of  the  church  let  us  into  the  old  clois- 
ter and  garden.  It  is  the  fairest  spot  of  all.  Such  a 
view  as  you  get  looking  up  and  down  the  river  from  the 
Alps  to  the  sea!  The  garden  is  overgrown  now  and 
going  to  ruin,  and  the  poor  old  monastery  looks  des- 
olate indeed.  We  saw  the  solitary  care-taker,  an  old, 
bare-footed,  bare-headed  monk,  carrying1  a  big  basket 
of  vegetables.  Humble  looking  enough  he  was,  but 
while  we  stopped  to  admire  a  complicated  sun  dial  on 
the  wall,  the  cur£  told  us  that  the  old  monk  was  its 
maker;  moreover  he  is  a  member  of  the  Academy  of 
Science  and  his  published  works  have  received  medals 
from  learned  societies. 

On  the  walls  of  the  cloister  were  old  prints  repre- 
senting the  martyrdom  of  Franciscans.  I  read  this 
beautiful  thought  from  St.  Francis  De  Sales: — "La  joie 
de  mourir  sans  peine  vaut  le  peine  de  vivre  sans  joie-" 
"  The  joy  to  die  without  pain  is  worth  the  pain  to 
live  without  joy." 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  295 

Nice,  Nov.  13,  1904. 

The  dear  little  message  from  the  doves  of  the 
cenacle  came  to  me  to-day,  and  I  was  indeed  pleased 
to  hear  from  them.  I  needed  not  the  assurance  their 
letter  gave  me  that  their  prayers  had  followed  me 
even  so  far  as  I  am  now  from  them.  Please  thank 
them,  Reverend  Mother,  for  me,  and  tell  them  I 
have  not  forgotten  them. 

We  have  had  a  very  pleasant  trip  so  far,  and  have 
reason  to  be  grateful  to  God,  who  gave  us  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  so  much  of  His  beautiful  world. 

In  Ireland  we  visited  the  Lakes  of  Killarney,  and 
were  favored  with  a  perfect  day,  all  sunshine  and  the 
glory  of  the  sky.  Every  spot  of  this  dear  old  land 
has  some  quaint  legend  about  St.  Patrick,  Finn 
McCool,  the  Devil,  and  the  like.  I  remarked  to  our 
guide,  who  told  us  these  stories  in  all  earnestness, 
that  the  Devil  seemed  to  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with 
Ireland.  "He  had,  sir,"  he  replied,  "but  he  is  an 
absentee  landlord." 

We  went  to  Muckross  Abbey  and  saw  the  ruins 
of  Innisfail,  mute  reminders  of  the  days  when  Ire- 
land was  the  home  of  saints  and  scholars.  The 
beautiful  ivy-covered  ruins  still  glorify  God,  for  the 
visitor  feels  the  truth  of  the  lines: — 

"Still  at  Muckross  we  must  pray, 
Though  the  monks  have  gone  away." 

In  England  I  had  several  happy  reminders  that  the 
Precious  Blood  is  honored  there.  In  the  first  place 
the  magnificent  new  cathedral  is  dedicated,  as  you 
know,  to  the  Precious  Blood  and  I  said  Mass  there  on 
the  Sunday  after  our  arrival  and  on  the  feasts 
of  All  Saints  and  All  Souls.  On  the  evening  of 
All  Souls  I  went  to  the  Church  of  the  Oratory. 
During  the  service  a  procession  of  men  was  formed. 


296  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

They  wore  a  long  red  habit  with  black  cape 
and  carried  lighted  candles.  They  were  over  a  hun- 
dred in  number,  and  behind  them  followed  all  the 
Fathers  of  the  community,  one  carrying  a  large  black 
cross  of  wood.  It  was  the  confraternity  of  the 
Precious  Blood,  founded  by  Father  Faber  himself. 
The  verger  of  the  church  gave  me  a  very  edifying 
account  of  these  young  men  and  their  fidelity  to  the 
devotion. 

Poor  France  I  found  in  a  bad  way.  The  expulsion 
of  religious  is  working  untold  harm.  I  have  heard 
most  harrowing  tales  of  the  suffering  and  shame  to 
which  the  women  have  been  subjected,  and  many 
have  died  from  broken  hearts.  It  is  no  wonder.  The 
disgrace  of  it  all  is  to  think  that  their  fathers  and 
brothers  will  stand  by  and  allow  it.  One  would  think 
that  the  ties  of  blood  and  kindred  should  prevent  it 
if  the  simple  claims  of  justice  and  decency  were  de- 
nied. Though  the  prospect  looks  bad  I  still  have 
confidence  "the  gates  of  hell  will  not  prevail,"  and 
that  God  will  look  after  His  own. 

Here  we  are  now  on  a  beautiful  summer  afternoon 
at  Nice.  The  palms  and  cactus  are  growing  and  the 
flowers  are  in  blossom  as  with  us  in  June.  The  spot 
is  a  veritable  earthly  paradise.  The  fairest  spot  of 
all  is  the  site  of  an  old  monastery  built  in  honor  of 
your  namesake,  St.  Francis,  more  than  five  hundred 
years  ago,  and  occupied  by  his  sons  until  a  year  and 
a  half  ago.  I  sat  in  the  old  garden,  now  overrun 
with  weeds,  and  looked  upon  the  fairest  scene  my 
eyes  ever  beheld.  The  monks  must  have  felt  as  did 
St.  Peter  on  Tabor  and  said  to  themselves:  "Lord, 
it  is  good  to  be  here."  They  were  near  heaven, 
surely,  but  they  have  been  driven  away,  all  but  one 
poor  old  man.  He  did  not  cut  much  of  a  figure, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  297 

barefooted  and  bareheaded,  old  and  shaggy,  yet  he 
was  a  learned  astronomer,  a  member  of  the  Academy 
of  Science,  and  the  recipient  of  medals  of  honor  for 
his  work.  He  is  the  only  one  left  of  all  the  com- 
munity. 

I  sincerely  trust  you  are  all  well.  Please  give  my 
kindest  regards  to  all  the  Sisters  and  ask  them  to 
continue  their  good  prayers  for  us  and  for  poor 
France. 

Venice,  November  20,  1904. 

Genoa  was  pleasant  and  interesting1,  but  Milan  was 
better,  especially  for  its  association  with  three  great 
saints  of  God.  The  cathedral  is  a  marvel.  Such 
work,  such  skill,  such  time  and  money  needed  to 
make  a  church  like  that!  You  have  seen  its  picture 
so  I  will  not  attempt  a  description.  What  you  do  not 
see  is  the  crypt  where  Saint  Charles  Borromeo  is 
kept.  The  chapel  is  made  almost  entirely  of  silver, 
the  scenes  of  his  life  portrayed  in  embossing,  and 
the  walls  covered  with  silk  and  gold  tapestry.  The 
casket  is  of  crystal  and  the  body  in  plain  view.  The 
head  and  face  are  pretty  well  preserved,  and  his  form 
is  arrayed  in  his  robes  of  state.  I  had  the  happiness 
of  saying1  Mass  before  the  remains.  I  found  the 
name  of  g-ood  Bishop  Bradley  on  the  reg-ister  for 
1887. 

Milan  also  has  the  Church  of  St.  Ambrose  and  his 
mortal  remains.  They  show  the  very  pulpit  where 
he  preached  when  he  converted  St.  Augustine,  and 
the  doors  he  closed  ag-ainst  Theodosius.  If  we  had 
bishops  like  him  now  we  should  have  a  different 
story  to  tell  in  these  so-called  Catholic  countries. 

We  came  to  Venice  by  night,  the  best  time  to 
come,  I  think,  over  the  long  line  of  bridges,  with 


298  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

water  on  every  side.  The  moon  was  almost  full,  and 
the  air  mild  and  clear,  though  it  is  after  the  middle 
of  November.  Had  Venice  lost  its  charm?  I  think 
not,  but  perhaps  a  little  of  the  romance  and  mystery 
of  my  first  visit  was  wanting-  in  this.  It  is  the  in- 
evitable result  of  getting  old.  It  is  a  charming  place 
all  the  same.  A  stillness  pervades,  a  quiet,  restful 
feeling  takes  possession  of  you,  and  you  want  to 
stay. 

St.  Mark's  seems  more  beautiful  than  ever.  It  is 
especially  dear  now,  from  its  association  with  the 
Pope.  I  said  Mass  there  this  morning  (Sunday)  at 
half-past  nine,  and  thought  how  often  Pius  X.  did 
the  same,  and  how  much  his  heart  must  be  attached 
to  the  dear  old  church  he  will  never  see  again. 

To-morrow  is  a  festa  of  the  Church  Maria  de 
Salute,  opposite  our  hotel  on  the  Grand  Canal,  and 
we  will  wait  to  see  the  procession  over  the  temporary 
bridges  before  we  leave  for  Florence. 

ROME. 

I  had  fitted  myself  out  au  fait^  in  Roman  costume; 
the  great  broad  hat  with  its  green  tassels,  such  as 
is  worn  by  bishops;  the  little  purple  skull  cap  worn 
under  it  at  the  same  time;  a  silk  purple  feriola  or 
mantle;  cross,  and  all;  and  I  presented  myself  at  the 
Propaganda  to  pay  my  respects  to  His  Eminence 
Cardinal  Gotti.  I  sent  in  my  card  and,  after  a  little 
delay,  was  ushered  into  a  beautiful  reception  room. 
There  at  a  table  sat  a  handsome  old  gentleman.  He 
wore  a  red  zucchetta  and  a  large  pectoral  cross.  I 
advanced  toward  him,  made  my  best  bow,  saluted 
him  as  "Your  Eminence,"  and  began  to  tell  him 
how  pleased  and  honored  I  was  to  meet  him,  when 
the  personage  in  question  rose  and,  preventing  me 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  299 

from  kissing-  his  hand,  said  in  the  Queen's  own 
English,  "Why,  man  alive,  I  am  only  a  poor  little 
bishop  like  yourself!"  It  was  Bishop  Brindle  of 
Nottingham. 

Well,  I  got  out  of  the  predicament  as  best  I  could 
by  telling-  him  that  he  looked  as  fine  and  as  vener- 
able as  any  cardinal. 

A  few  moments  after,  I  was  in  the  presence  of  the 
real  cardinal.  No  mistaking  him  this  time,  so  much 
he  resembles  his  familiar  picture.  He  has  a  face 
ever  to  be  remembered.  Intelligence  and  benignity 
are  the  dominant  traits  that  strike  one  at  first 
glance.  His  features  are  regular,  his  forehead  very 
high  and  ample,  and  his  little  scarlet  skull  cap 
covers  a  crown  of  snowy  white.  He  wore  a  simple 
black  cassock  trimmed  with  red,  and  a  plain  pectoral 
cross.  He  spoke  with  the  gentlest,  sweetest  voice, 
and  sat  me  down  beside  him  on  a  sofa.  He  is  a 
man  in  whose  presence  anyone  would  feel  at  ease. 
After  the  usual  exchange  of  courtesies,  he  inquired 
where  I  was  stopping  in  Rome,  how  long  I  was  to 
remain,  and  proffered  to  get  me  an  audience  with  the 
Holy  Father.  I  made  a  few  requests,  to  which  he 
listened  with  the  greatest  consideration  and  then 
asked  me  to  put  them  in  writing.  He  told  me  he 
would  be  pleased  to  see  me  at  any  time  during  my 

stay.  I  then  introduced  Fr.  A ,  my  "secretaire  pro- 

visoir" — as  the  cardinal  smilingly  called  him.  After 
a  few  words  more  of  good  wishes  and  a  pleasant 
visit,  with  a  good  night  and  an  au  revoir,  we  retired. 

And  this  is  the  man  who,  after  the  Pope,  bears 
the  burden  of  the  universal  Church.  May  God 
lighten  his  load  !  It  were  a  pity  to  break  so  good,  so 
gentle,  so  lovable  a  soul  as  his. 


300  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

AUDIENCE  WITH  THE   POPE. 

November  30.  This  is  a  never-to-be-forgotten  day 
for  us,  for  this  day  we  have  seen  the  Pope.  What 
a  happy  privilege!  To  come  into  the  presence  of  the 
highest  representative  of  Christ  upon  earth,  the  very 
head  and  center  of  the  Catholic  Church,  to  talk  with 
him  whom  hundreds  of  millions  revere  and  love,  to 
touch  his  hand  and  kiss  his  ring-,  to  hear  from  his 
lips  words  of  affection,  and  to  carry  away  with  us 
his  blessing-  for  ourselves,  our  friends,  and  for  all 
those  who  asked  for  a  share  in  his  prayers  !  This 
was  our  joy  to-day. 

That  is  really  all  there  is  to  tell,  but  1  know  that 
every  detail  of  the  visit  will  be  of  surpassing  inter- 
est to  our  friends  at  home,  and  so  I  will  give  the 
particulars  of  it  all. 

Courtesy  demands  that  a  bishop  from  a  mission- 
ary country  such  as  ours  pay  his  first  visit  to  the 
Cardinal  Prefect  of  the  Propaganda,  and  the  second 
visit  to  the  Holy  Father.  The  audience  is  arranged 
by  the  Maistre  di  Camera,  at  present  the  affable 
Mgr.  Bisletti,  and  notice  is  sent  to  one's  city  address, 
usually  the  day  before  the  one  appointed  for  the 
reception.  Mine  came  last  evening.  In  it  was  stated 
that  the  Holy  Father  would  receive  me  at  11:30  to- 
day and  that  I  would  be  accompanied  by  my  secre- 
tary and  my  two  sisters.  There  was  a  little  flurry 
of  preparation.  Etiquette  requires  ladies  to  wear 
black  dresses  and  a  black  veil  or  mantle.  We  had 
many  beads,  crosses,  pictures,  to  be  blessed,  and 
these  had  to  be  got  in  order.  What  we  were  to 
say,  what  we  were  to  do — for  it  was  a  private 
audience  that  was  accorded  to  us — was  a  source  of 
preoccupation  all  the  evening  previous.  This  at  last 
was  the  end  of  our  long  travel ;  for  this  especially 
had  we  come;  and  now  the  long-looked-for  event  was 
at  hand. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  301 

The  morning  was  bright  and  crisp.  It  was  the 
day  of  the  opening  of  the  Italian  parliament.  The 
streets  were  filled  with  soldiers.  The  procession 
looked  like  a  medieval  pageant.  The  carriages  of 
the  officials  were  rich,  and  ornamented  with  gold 
trappings ;  that  of  the  king  was  drawn  by  six 
horses  caparisoned  and  mounted  by  out  riders  in 
elaborate  uniforms.  On  the  carriage  behind  rode 
the  footmen,  in  red,  with  white  wigs  and  three- 
cornered  hats.  A  double  file  of  soldiers  lined  the 
streets  from  the  Quirinal  to  the  Parliament  House, 
and  between  these,  in  a  closed  carriage,  passed  the 
king,  bowing  right  and  left.  There  was  little 
enthusiasm.  Hats  were  lifted  as  the  king  and 
queen  passed,  and  that  was  all.  We  enjoyed  the 
sight,  but  it  was  not  for  that  we  had  come.  It  was 
to  see  a  greater  being  that  we  were  on  our  road 
this  day. 

Arrived  at  the  Vatican,  we  passed  through  the 
various  antechambers.  These  were  rich  and  beauti- 
ful. The  Swiss  guards  in  their  multi-colored  uni- 
forms and  their  long  halberts,  presented  arms  as 
we  passed.  Pages  in  red  velvet  attended  to  our 
wraps,  and  led  the  way.  In  the  waiting  chamber 
was  a  throne  and  a  dais  where  the  Pope  receives  in 
state.  Here  were  a  number  of  bishops  and  priests 
from  all  parts  of  the  world.  An  Irish  bishop  told 
me  there  were  waiting  with  him  a  bishop  from  Nor- 
way, one  from  South  Africa,  and  one  from  Pata- 
gonia, "and,"  he  added  with  his  native  humor,  "the 
one  from  Patagonia  isn't  a  bit  savage,  either." 
Here,  too,  were  gathered  in  picturesque  groups 
members  of  the  Noble  Guard,  distinguished  by  their 
helmets  and  great  horse-hair  plumes ;  counts  with 
their  court  costume  of  black  and  gold,  and  their 


302  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

decorations  of  many  orders.  In  a  few  minutes  our 
turn  came.  I  was  ushered  alone  into  what  seemed 
to  be  a  private  study  or  library  of  the  Pope.  The 
Holy  Father  was  alone  in  the  great  room,  and  sat 
behind  a  desk  near  the  door.  As  I  entered,  he 
arose  and  came  toward  me.  He  was  all  in  white, 
from  the  white  silk  skull  cap  to  the  white  slippers 
embroidered  with  gold.  His  face  was  as  white  as 
the  cassock  he  wore,  but  his  eyes  beamed  a  warm, 
kindly  welcome.  Taking  my  hand  in  his  after  I 
had  kissed  it,  he  led  me  to  a  chair  beside  his  own 
and  bade  me  be  seated.  I  spoke  to  him  in  Latin, 
told  him  who  I  was,  that  I  had  been  consecrated  on 
our  Lady's  Nativity  day,  and  had  come  to  thank 
him  for  the  honor  he  had  conferred  upon  me  in 
making  me  a  Bishop  of  the  church,  and  to  assist  at 
the  great  feast  of  the  Immaculate  Conception.  As  I 
spoke  my  thanks,  he  raised  his  hand  in  protesta- 
tion. I  begged  his  blessing  for  myself,  my  family, 
my  priests  and  religious,  and  my  people.  He  fore- 
stalled my  petition  and  said,  oh,  so  tenderly  and 
devoutly:  "I  bless  them  all,  and  all  to  whom  you 
shall  bring  my  blessing."  He  then  asked  me  how 
many  Catholics  there  are  in  my  diocese.  I  told 
him,  and  added  that  their  number  is  about  one-third 
of  the  population. 

"You  must  strive  to  make  the  remaining  two- 
thirds  Catholics  also,"  he  said.  He  asked  me  the 
names  of  the  religious  communities  in  the  diocese. 

"Are  your  people  good  Catholics?"  he  pursued. 

"Good  Catholics,  Holy  Father,"  I  answered. 

"And  your  priests?"  he  added. 

"Faithful  and  devoted,"  I  assured  him. 

"Deo  gratias,"  he  said  devoutly. 


OP  BISHOP  DELANY  303 

He  asked  me  my  age.  I  told  him  I  thought  I  was  the 
youngest  bishop  in  the  United  States,  to  which  he 
replied  "Forsitan  in  tota  ecclesia,"  ("perhaps  in  the 
entire  church.") 

I  then  asked  His  Holiness  for  some  special  bles- 
sing's —  for  Trinity  College,  Washington,  for  the 
Carmelite  Convent  in  Boston,  for  a  few  devoted 

friends  of  Father  A ,  who  was  with  me,  and 

then  asked  him  to  sign  his  name  to  his 
picture.  This  he  did  most  graciously,  adding  a  few 
words  of  prayer  beside.  Instead  of  using-  a  blotting- 
paper,  as  we  do  at  home,  he  used  a  little  box  of  fine 
sand,  which  he  sprinkled  on  the  wet  ink.  I  then 
presented  him  a  bound  volume  of  The  Guidon,  our 
diocesan  mag-azine.  I  told  him  I  was  its  founder,  and 
its  editor  until  my  present  appointment.  He  looked 
it  over  with  interest,  and  exclaimed  with  a  smile 
when  he  saw  a  picture  of  himself  and  the  account  of 
his  coronation.  I  showed  him  our  dear  dead  Bishop's 
picture,  that  of  the  cathedral  and  residence,  and,  as 
I  began  again  to  ask  his  blessing-s,  he  again  fore- 
stalled me,  saying:  "I  bless  the  editor,  the  writers, 
the  readers,  and  I  pray  God  to  prosper  the  work." 

I  then  beg-ged  our  Holy  Father  to  allow  me  to  pre- 
sent Father  A and  my  sisters,  who  were  waiting 

without.  He  said  "Assuredly,"  and  they  came  in. 
We  all  knelt.  His  Holiness  arose  again,  and,  giving 
his  hand  to  each,  said:  "I  bless  you  all,  all  that  you 
have  in  your  hands,  all  that  you  have  in  your  hearts 
and  in  your  minds."  Bidding  us  "Addio!  Addio!" 
and  bowing  gently,  he  then  brought  our  interview  to 
an  end. 

Once  outside  the  room,  the  first  expression  of  all 
was — "How  pale  he  looks,  how  tired,  but  how  kind 
and  gentle!"  What  wonder  he  should  look  weary  and 
careworn  with  the  weight  he  bears  and  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  Church  of  the  world  upon  him! 


304  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

The  second  time  I  saw  the  Pope  was  on  the  Sun- 
day following1.  An  audience  was  given  to  those  atten- 
ding the  Congress  in  honor  of  Our  Lady.  The  hour 
fixed  was  half-past  three,  or  15:30  o'clock  as  the 
notice  read,  according  to  the  official  manner  of  reck- 
oning- time  in  Italy.  The  place  was  St.  Peter's. 
Great  confusion  occurred,  owing  to  the  manner  of 
admission.  Everyone  inscribing-  as  a  member  of  the 
Congress  was  given  a  special  medal  of  Our  Lady  to 
serve  as  a  tessera  or  badg-e  of  recognition.  This  they 
were  told  was  all  that  was  necessary  for  admission 
to  see  the  Holy  Father  on  the  day  appointed.  In 
the  mean  time,  some  enterprising  rogue  had  counter- 
feited the  medals  and  sold  then  broadcast  at  a  lire 
apiece. 

Promptly  at  the  hour  fixed,  the  Holy  Father 
came  in  the  simplest  manner  possible.  He  was 
accompanied  by  a  few  cardinals,  several  Monsignori 
and  chamberlains,  and  a  dozen  or  so  soldiers  of  the 
Swiss  Guard.  Unlike  his  predecessor,  Pope  Leo 
XIIL,  of  blessed  memory,  Pius  X.  does  not  use  or- 
dinarily the  sedia  gestatoria  carried  on  the  shoulders 
of  attendants ;  this  time  he  walked  between  the 
dignitaries,  bestowing  his  blessing  right  and  left 
upon  the  kneeling  crowd  of  pilgrims.  A  simple 
throne  was  placed  in  one  of  the  transepts  of  the 
great  church.  Here  the  Pope  sat  for  a  few  moments 
while  Cardinal  Vincenzo  Vannutelli  made  an  address 
and  presented  to  His  Holiness  a  crown  for  Our 
Lady's  Statue,  the  gift  of  the  Catholic  world  on 
the  occasion  of  this  fiftieth  anniversary.  The  crown 
is  a  crescent  about  four  feet  across,  on  which  are 
set  twelve  stars  of  diamonds,  each  star  measuring 
about  twelve  inches  in  diameter.  When  the  address 
was  finished,  Pope  Pius  arose,  and  a  hush  fell 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  305 

upon  the  people.  As  he  stood  facing  us,  wearing 
the  usual  white  cap,  and  a  shoulder  cape  of  red 
trimmed  with  ermine,  to  us,  familiar  with  the 
picture  of  Pius  IX.,  the  pontiff  seemed  like  his 
illustrious  namesake  come  back  to  life,  so  much 
does  he  resemble  him  in  face  and  figure.  As  he 
spoke,  his  voice  rose  in  rich  cadences  until  it 
reached  the  extremity  of  the  assembled  crowd.  He 
made  few  gestures,  but  these  were  graceful  and 
forceful. 

He  spoke  with  feeling  and  unction,  and  the  words 
came  without  any  apparent  effort.  Such  a  preacher, 
too,  was  Pius  IX.,  the  memory  of  whose  eloquence  is 
still  fresh  in  the  minds  of  those  who  were  ever  priv- 
ileged to  hear  him.  At  the  close  of  his  address,  the 
Holy  Father  entoned  loud  and  clear  the  "Sit  Nomen 
Domini  benedictum,"  the  beginning  of  the  pontifical 
blessing.  "Ex  hoc  nunc  et  usque  in  saeculum"  came 
back  in  a  thundering  response  from  the  hundreds  of 
ecclesiastics  about.  Then  came  again  in  sweet,  clear 
tones  from  the  pontiff,  "Benedicat  vos  Omnipotens 
Deus,  Pater,  et  Filius  et  Spiritus  Sanctus." 

The  ceremony  of  the  blessing  of  the  crown  being 
over,  a  number  of  gentlemen,  probably  of  the  com- 
mittee, were  presented  to  the  Pope,  who  received  them 
cordially,  spoke  a  few  words  to  each,  and  then  resumed 
the  little  procession  back  whence  he  had  come,  to  the 
Vatican. 

THE   CONSISTORY. 

It  is  not  the  privilege  of  many  foreign  bishops  to 
assist  at  papal  consistories,  for  the  reason  that  they 
are  seldom  in  the  Eternal  City  when  these  are  held,  or 
are  not  concerned  with  the  subject  under  discussion. 
The  present  consistory  was  held  to  pass  final  judg- 
ment on  the  canonization  of  two  saints,  Alexander  Sauli 


306  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

and  Majella.  Of  course  the  lives  of  the  saints  in  ques- 
tion had  been  previously  examined  by  the  customary 
process,  and  their  heroic  virtues  proved  by  all  the 
tests  required  by  the  Church.  It  only  remained  then 
to  give  the  formal  sanction  of  the  Pope,  and  this  is 
usually  preceded  by  a  consultation  with  bishops  and 
cardinals  in  what  is  called  a  consistory.  On  account 
of  the  approaching1  feast,  many  more  than  the  usual 
number  of  bishops  and  patriarchs  were  present  in 
Rome. 

The  hall  of  consistory  is  one  of  the  beautiful  salons 
of  the  Vatican.  A  throne  for  the  Holy  Father  was 
placed  at  one  end,  under  a  dais  of  red.  In  front  were 
ranged  the  cardinals  in  their  scarlet  robes  and  ermine. 
Behind  these  were  the  bishops. and  patriarchs.  Noth- 
ing could  better  illustrate  the  Catholicity  of  the  Church 
than  an  assembly  like  this.  Here  were  gathered 
bishops  from  all  parts  of  the  world;  one  just  in  front 
of  me  came  from  India;  the  one  beside  me  was  a 
German;  three  Irish  bishops  were  but  a  few  seats 
away;  South  America,  Mexico,  Canada,  Australia,  Nor- 
way, Armenia  were  all  represented. 

Promptly  at  the  hour  appointed,  the  Pope  entered 
and  took  his  place  on  the  throne.  He  wore  a  rich,  red 
cape  and  a  gold  mitre.  Addressing  the  assembly  in 
Latin,  he  briefly  indicated  the  purpose  of  the  meet- 
ing and  asked  for  the  consensus  of  opinion.  One  by 
one  each  cardinal  arose  in  his  place,  and,  lifting  his 
little  red  zuchetta,  began  " Beatissime  Pater,"  and  read 
from  a  paper  the  reasons  why  he  approved  of  the 
process  and  why  he  asked  for  the  canonization  of  these 
servants  of  God.  Closing,  the  cardinal  lifted  again 
his  red  cap  and  genuflected,  while  the  Holy  Father 
raised  his  hand  in  blessing.  After  the  cardinals  had 
finished  —  there  were  about  forty  to  be  heard  —  a  few 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  307 

of  the  bishops  and  patriarchs  were  called  upon.  The 
rest  rose  in  their  places  and,  saluting-  the  Pope  in  the 
customary  fashion,  said  simply:  "Placet  ob  rationes 
a  me  scriptas  et  subscript©  allatas."  The  reasons 
alleged  were  written  on  the  back  of  the  ballot  supplied, 
which  was  then  handed  to  an  attendant.  The  con- 
sistory lasted  two  hours  and  a  half.  The  Holy  Father 
remained  during  all  the  proceedings,  and  closed  the 
exercises  with  benediction. 

OUR  LADY'S  TRIUMPH  DAY. 

The  fascination  of  a  grand  religious  solemnity  in 
the  world's  cathedral  is  always  potent  both  for  the 
native  residents  and  for  visitors  to  Rome.  But  it  is 
difficult  to  see  how  the  interest  and  enthusiasm  of  this 
feast  of  Our  Lady  could  be  surpassed.  Many  thou- 
sands of  persons  this  morning  did  not  wait  for  the  sun  to 
rise  before  they  were  up  and  on  their  way  to  the  great 
basilica  of  St.  Peter,  the  doors  of  which  were  not 
opened  until  half  past  seven.  The  vast  piazza  at  that 
hour  was  crowded  with  people.  Whole  regiments  of 
Italian  soldiers  were  stationed  about  the  approaching 
streets,  and  a  military  cordon  was  placed  around  the 
steps  of  the  church  to  regulate  the  entrance  of  the 
crowd.  In  the  piazza  an  enormous  number  of  people 
in  carriages,  in  tramways,  and  on  foot,  was  constantly 
gathering.  Groups  of  pilgrims,  seminarians,  sisters, 
priests,  brothers,  passed  along  every  moment.  In 
elegant  equipages  came  diplomats  in  their  bright  uni- 
forms, and  ladies  of  the  aristocracy  and  royal  families. 

The  morning  was  cloudy  and  damp.  About  nine 
o'clock  the  sky  brightened  a  little  and  a  few  rays  of 
sunshine  pierced  the  dark  clouds.  In  the  church  the 
soft  light  of  the  cloudy  winter's  day  contributed  to 
render  more  mystical  the  religious  atmosphere  within. 


308  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

St.  Peter's  church  needs  little  adornment.  From  floor 
to  ceiling  it  is  covered  with  most  beautiful  marbles.  Its 
mosaics  rival  the  finest  paintings  in  the  world,  but,  on  this 
occasion,  the  columns  in  the  central  nave  were  draped 
with  rich  red  damask.  In  the  dome  and  arches  were 
little  clusters  of  electric  lamps  whose  brilliant  lights 
were  reflected  in  the  gold  decorations  of  the  Church. 
Upon  entering  one  stood  entranced. 

Beneath  the  picture  of  our  Blessed  Lady  was  the 
papal  throne,  covered  by  a  rich  red  canopy  of  velvet. 
The  marble  floor  in  front  was  covered  with  carpets 
of  red  and  green.  On  each  side  of  the  throne  were 
long  files  of  benches,  draped  with  scarlet  cloth,  for 
the  cardinals  and  bishops.  Behind  these,  the  spaces 
between  the  arches  were  cut  off  from  the  rest  of 
the  church  by  curtains  of  velvet  and  silk,  and  here 
were  built  tribunes  for  special  guests.  One  was  in- 
tended for  members  of  the  diplomatic  corps  and 
ministers  accredited  to  the  Holy  See.  Among  those 
seen  here  to-day  was  the  ex-ambassador  of  Spain, 
Merry  del  Val,  father  of  the  Cardinal  Secretary  of 
State. 

Another  tribune  was  reserved  for  the  Knights  of 
Malta,  and  a  third  for  members  of  royal  families. 
Among  these  were  the  Countess  di  Barda,  the  Countess 
di  Frani,  Count  and  Countess  d'Eu,  the  four  prin- 
cesses, daughters  of  Count  di  Caserta,  the  Archduch- 
ess Elizabeth  of  Austria  with  her  husband  and  Prince 
Lichtenstein  and  wife.  The  fourth  tribune  was  re- 
served for  the  Roman  nobility.  At  the  extreme  end 
of  the  apse,  directly  opposite  the  main  entrance,  the 
thousand  electric  lights  gave  the  impression  as  of  the 
sun  shining  with  its  golden  rays,  and  from  out 
the  glory  gleamed  the  figure  of  Our  Lady  in  azure 
mantle,  in  attitude  of  ecstasy,  surrounded  by  clouds, 
and  with  a  crown  of  electric  stars  above  her  head. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  309 

In  the  center  of  the  church  a  passageway  was 
made  from  the  main  entrance  to  the  confessional  of 
St.  Peter,  and  around  these  on  both  sides  to  the  papal 
throne  at  the  extreme  end.  Here  the  palatine  guard 
was  placed  to  keep  order. 

THE  PROCESSION. 

The  wonderful  pageant,  which  for  richness  and 
beauty  of  color  recalled  the  scenes  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
proceeded  from  the  chapel  near  the  right  entrance  up 
the  middle  aisle.  First  came  two  Swiss  guards  dressed 
in  the  multi-colored  uniform  designed  by  Michael  An- 
gelo,  with  steel  cuirasses  and  helmet,  and  carrying 
halberds.  Then  followed  representatives  of  all  the 
religious  orders  dressed  in  their  distinctive  monastic 
habits.  Two  Canons  of  the  Vatican  in  red  cassocks 
and  white  ermine  mantles  then  preceded  a  long  file 
of  chanters  of  the  Sistine  choir,  in  violet  soutanes  and 
white  surplices.  Following  these  came  the  Vatican 
Canons,  making  a  beautiful  picture  in  red  and  white. 
The  second  group  was  formed  by  Swiss  Guards,  who 
flanked  on  each  side  a  number  of  chamberlains  carry- 
ing the  precious  tiaras  of  the  Pontiff.  Four  more 
Swiss  soldiers  followed  with  clerics  carrying  a  cross, 
beautifully  ornamented  candles,  and  the  peniten- 
tial rods.  The  third  group  consisted  of  more  than  two 
hundred  bishops  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  these 
made  a  most  imposing  appearance  in  their  white  mi- 
tres and  long  white  copes.  Conspicious  among  them 
were  bishops  and  patriarchs  of  the  Greek  and  Arme- 
nian rites,  whose  rich  robes  and  peculiarly  shaped 
mitres  attracted  the  attention  of  all. 

HOMEWARD  BOUND. 

At  Sea,  December  21,  1904. 

Here  is  a  line  from  far  at  sea.  It  is  the  day  we  are 
due  at  New  York,  but  we  are  far  from  port,  and, 


310  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

though  we  are  so  anxious  to  reach  home  for  Christmas, 
it  looks  now  unlikely  that  we  can.  It  will  be  a  great 
disappointment  for  us  and  great  worry  for  those  at 
home;  but  we  will  get  over  it,  and  after  the  experience 
we  have  had,  may  well  be  thankful  we  are  living  at 

all.  G has  probably  told  you  about  the  storm 

and  the  hard  luck  we  have  had  since  we  left  port,  so 
I  will  not  bother  you  with  more  of  it.  The  girls  are 
good  sailors  and  good  soldiers  as  well.  They  made 
no  fuss  about  danger.  They  prepared  for  the  worst, 
hoped  for  the  best,  and  trusted  in  God  and  the  good 
prayers  offered  for  us.  For  myself,  I  should  have 
been  sorry  to  go  down  at  sea;  not  that  I  am  afraid  to 
die,  but  I  should  find  it  hard  to  feel  reconciled  to 
leaving  my  work,  not  only  unaccomplished,  but  not 
even  begun.  That  would  be  a  disappointment  worse 
than  all  else.  It  was  a  very  trying  experience  and  in 
a  measure  detracts  from  the  pleasure  of  the  entire 
trip,  but  that  will  soon  pass,  I  doubt  not,  and  we  shall 
remember  only  the  pleasureable  part. 

I  think  we  can  say  that  our  trip  was  a  success 
in  every  respect.  We  had  not  the  slightest  mishap 
or  disappointment.  Nobody  was  sick,  weather  was  fine 
everywhere,  so  we  lost  not  a  day  nor  an  hour.  The 
girls  saw  historic  and  beautiful  places  and  things  for 
the  first  time.  We  met  many  distinguished  people  and 
received  much  consideration  on  every  side.  We  wanted 
for  nothing  on  the  way,  and  are  bringing  home  some 
souvenirs  for  everybody  that  we  may  share  our  joy 
with  them.  Surely  all  this  is  much  to  be  grateful  for, 
and  if  a  disappointment  waits  for  us  in  the  end  we 
can  make  the  sacrifice  in  a  Christian  spirit. 

You  will  be  pleased  to  know  I  received  a  special 
blessing  for  Trinity.  I  explained  to  the  Holy  Father 
the  work  of  the  college  and  asked  him  to  sign  a  pho- 
tograph. This  he  did  adding  a  few  words  of  blessing. 
I  will  send  it  to  you  as  soon  as  I  reach  home. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  311 

I  will  close  by  wishing  you  a  happy,  holy  Christmas 
and  sending  you  my  blessing  over  a  thousand  miles  at 
sea.  *  *  *  * 


After  the  most  tempestuous  voyage  she  has  ever  en- 
countered, battling  with  storms  which  exceeded  in 
severity  anything  her  captain  has  met  in  the  quarter 
of  a  century  he  has  been  sailing  the  seas,  the  Prinzess 
Irene,  of  the  North  German  Lloyd  line,  five  days  over- 
due, reached  her  pier  in  Hoboken. 

Only  by  their  thankfulness  to  Captain  Gerhardt  Dan- 
nemann  and  the  other  officers  of  the  vessel  for 
bringing  them  safely  through  the  dangers  which  be- 
set them  was  the  gratitude  of  the  passengers  exceeded 
for  having  at  last  reached  their  home  port.  So  great  had 
been  the  ship's  distress  that  she  had  to  put  into  Hali- 
fax with  what  to  an  ocean  liner  was  little  more  than 
a  bucket  full  of  coal. 

From  the  moment  of  leaving  Genoa,  on  December 
9th,  until  the  vessel  reached  Halifax  the  voyage  was  a 
continuous  succession  of  gales  of  tremendous  severity. 
When  in  mid  ocean,  the  gale  against  which  the  Prinzess 
Irene  was  battling  developed  into  a  cyclone  which  swept 
the  ship's  decks,  carried  away  all  of  her  forward  ven- 
tilators and  wrought  a  panic  among  the  steerage 
passengers. 

Even  the  officers  admitted  when  there  was  no  longer 
need  to  encourage  the  passengers,  that  for  two  days 
the  situation  was  critical.  When  the  ventilators  were 
broken  off  by  the  seas  and  washed  away,  water  by 
the  ton  poured  through  the  holes  left  in  the  forward 
deck,  and  swept  in  a  solid  body  toward  where  the 
steerage  passengers  were  huddled.  It  did  not  take 
long  to  close  the  inlets  for  these  rivers,  but  day  after 


312  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

day,  as  the  ship  became  more  and  more  overdue,  no 
safe  course  was  left  open  to  Captain  Dannemann  except 
to  make  for  Halifax. 

Fifty  of  the  passengers,  including-  Bishop  Delany 
and  his  party,  came  ashore,  being  anxious  to  reach 
their  homes  in  time  for  Christmas.  So  eager  was  the 
Bishop  to  spend  the  first  Christmas  after  his  conse- 
cration with  his  flock  in  Manchester,  that  he  traveled 
all  night  by  special  train.  He  reached  Manchester 
Christmas  morning  at  four  o'clock  and  spoke  to  his 
people  at  every  Mass.  He  thanked  them  for  their 
prayers  for  his  safe  return  and  imparted  to  them  the 
Papal  Benediction. 

It  was  with  the  coming  of  the  New  Year  that  the 
new  Bishop  really  took  up  his  burden.  He  at  once 
began  to  enlarge  and  extend  the  work  of  the  diocese. 
Even  before  his  consecration,  he  had  installed  in  the 
cathedral  and  residence  a  system  of  electric  lighting, 
and  he  now  announced  to  the  people  that  this,  the  cash 
value  of  which  was  about  twenty-five  hundred  dollars, 
was  to  be  his  consecration  gift  to  the  parish. 

His  next  thought  was  of  the  little  ones,  for  whom 
he  had  a  deep  and  abiding  love.  He  dispensed  with 
the  Children's  Mass  in  the  low  studded,  dimly-lighted 
basement,  and  brought  the  young  people  upstairs  to 
attend  the  regular  Mass  that  he  himself  said  when  at 
home.  He  then  did  away  with  the  adult  choir  at  this 
service,  and  introduced  congregational  singing  by  the 
children,  an  innovation  that  is  no  longer  an  experiment 
but  a  decided  success.  The  sight  of  those  hundreds 
of  little  ones  assembled  before  him  to  worship  God, 
the  sound  of  their  voices  raised  in  divine  praise,  brought 
the  good  Bishop,  perhaps,  the  purest  happiness  of  the 
week. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  313 

He  always  directed  his  instructions  to  them,  and 
had  the  happy  faculty  of  speaking-  not  only  within 
their  comprehension  but  in  form  acceptable,  also  to 
the  older  members  of  the  congregation. 

On  Sunday,  March  19,  1905,  the  Bishop  paid  his  first 
official  visit  to  the  Holy  Rosary  Chapel.  He  said  the 
two  regular  Masses  there  that  day  and  announced  at 
each  his  intention  of  begining  at  once  the  erection  of 
a  new  chapel.  This  was  an  improvement  long  needed, 
for  the  old  building,  which  served  both  as  church  and 
school,  was  entirely  inadequate  for  either  purpose. 
Eight  months  later  on  Sunday,  November  fifth,  the 
Bishop  had  the  happiness  of  dedicating  the  new  struc- 
ture, in  its  way  a  model  for  the  purposes  designed.  The 
chapel  itself  is  on  the  second  floor.  It  is  light,  airy, 
ample,  with  a  seating  capacity  of  six  hundred.  The 
ground  floor,  equally  spacious,  is  divided  into  a  hall 
and  ante-rooms,  occupied  by  the  St.  Paul's  Temperance 
Society,  who,  at  the  Bishop's  earnest  solicitation,  came 
here,  enlarged  their  membership  and  made  of  this  hall 
a  place  attractive  to  the  young  men  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. The  good  thus  far  accomplished  by  this 
movement  can  hardly  be  estimated.  The  old  chapel 
was  immediately  converted  into  additional  school  rooms, 
and  now  the  parishioners  of  the  Holy  Rosary  district 
are  provided  with  church  and  school  facilities  suffi- 
cient for  a  long  time  to  come. 

In  the  summer  the  Bishop  again  looked  to  the  needs 
of  the  children.  He  made  some  improvements  in  St. 
Joseph's  girls'  school,  and  renovated  from  top  to  bottom 
the  boys'  high  school.  This  was  an  old  and  dingy 
building,  unattractive  without  and  unsanitary  within. 
The  exterior  he  could  not  alter,  but  the  interior  he 
made  almost  new.  Carpenters,  painters,  plumbers, 
worked  on  it  for  weeks,  and  when  it  was  opened  in 


314  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

the  fall  it  was  as  spotless  and  healthful  as  any  school 
building  in  town.  Changes  and  additions  were  also  made 
in  the  course  of  study,  particularly  in  the  business  de- 
partment, for  which  new  typewriters  were  bought,  so 
that  students  are  now  given  practice  on  all  the  leading 
machines. 

That  summer,  too,  the  wooden  passageway  leading 
from  the  cathedral  residence  to  the  church  itself  was 
torn  down  and  replaced  by  a  brick  cloister,  in  har- 
mony with  the  architecture  of  the  buildings  it  connects. 
This  was  done,  primarily,  to  make  room  for  the 
placing  of  the  monument  erected  by  the  priests  of 
the  diocese  to  the  memory  of  their  first  bishop.  From 
the  day  of  his  consecration  to  the  day  of  the  dedi- 
cation of  the  memorial,  Bishop  Delany  labored  unceas- 
ingly for  its  completion.  He  carried  out  to  the  letter 
Bishop  Bradley 's  wishes  as  to  the  form  it  should  take, 
supervised  its  construction,  from  time  to  time  made 
valuable  suggestions  both  to  sculptor  and  architect, 
and  had  the  grounds  about  it  graded  and  made  beau- 
tiful without  regard  to  expense. 

In  form,  the  monument  is  a  Celtic  cross  of  Troy 
granite,  resting  on  a  massive  quadrangular  base,  with 
a  total  height  of  seventeen  feet,  and  is  at  once  noble 
and  imposing  in  appearance.  On  its  top  are 
two  Greek  letters,  found  commonly  on  ancient  crosses 
in  Rome,  and  signifying  Christ.  On  the  arms  are 
the  first  and  last  letters  of  the  Greek  alphabet, 
Alpha  and  Omega, — the  beginning  and  the  end.  In 
the  centre  is  a  triangle,  the  sign  of  the  Blessed 
Trinity.  A  bishop's  mitre,  representative  of  the  sacred 
office  held  by  the  deceased,  is  carved  on  the  stone. 
On  the  plinth  are  the  symbols  of  the  four  evangelists, 
the  head  for  St.  Matthew,  the  lion  for  St.  Mark,  the 
bull  for  St.  Luke,  the  eagle  for  St.  John. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  315 

Below,  in  the  side  of  the  quadrangle  facing-  the 
street,  is  a  medallion  of  the  bishop  executed  in  bronze 
by  the  famous  sculptor,  Samuel  Kitson.  This  is  an 
excellent  likeness  of  the  beloved  prelate,  as  his  people 
prefer  to  recall  him, — before  care  had  lined  his  face, 
or  failing-  health  had  bent  his  frame.  Near  the  face, 
in  low  relief,  is  a  chalice  with  a  Host  raised  in  glory, 
a  reminder  of  the  devotion  of  the  bishop  to  our  Lord 
in  the  Sacrament  of  His  love.  Below  the  medallion 
is  the  inscription: 

RT.  REV.  DENIS  M.  BRADLEY,  D.  D. 

FIRST  BISHOP  OF  MANCHESTER, 

1845  —  1903. 

and  in  large  raised  letters  on  the  granite  beneath  is 
the  one  word,  "BRADLEY." 

On  December  24th,  with  appropriate  ceremonies, 
Bishop  Delany  dedicated  the  graceful  yet  massive 
memorial  on  which  his  own  name  was  so  soon  to  be 
carved  beside  that  of  his  lamented  chief.  At  the  same 
time  he  caused  to  be  placed  in  the  cathedral  itself  a 
memorial  tablet  bearing  a  more  extended  inscription 
to  Bishop  Bradley's  memory  than  was  possible  on  the 
cross  itself.  Nor  did  he  deem  all  this  enough.  When 
soon  after  his  return  from  Rome,  he  announced  the 
taking  of  a  parish  census,  he  told  the  people  that!  the 
offerings  they  would  make  when  the  priests  called 
should  be  the  nucleus  of  a  building  fund  for  a  new 
high  school  to  be  known  as  the  Bradley  Memorial 
School.  This  he  planned  on  a  big  scale,  albeit  he  knew 
that  the  realization  could  not  be  immediate.  It  was 
to  take  the  place  of  the  present  boys'  school  and 
accommodate  also  all  the  children  of  the  city  who  wished 
to  pursue,  free  of  expense,  a  higher  course  of  study 
under  religious  teachers.  It  was  to  have,  too,  a  large 


316  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

hall,  an  adjunct  much  needed  in  St.  Joseph's  parish. 
Some  months  later  he  seized  the  opportunity  to  secure 
a  favorable  site  by  buying  a  large  tract  of  land  facing 
Tremont  Common  and  near  the  cathedral  itself.  This 
property,  even  if  not  used  for  years  for  school  pur- 
poses, is  a  profitable  investment,  as  the  rents  of 
the  buildings  thereon  more  than  pay  the  interest  on 
the  principal  invested. 

But  the  project  that  lay  nearest  to  the  Bishop's 
heart  was  also  nearest  to  fulfillment  at  the  time  of  his 
death.  In  the  spring  of  1905,  when  the  city  farm 
was  discontinued,  the  mayor  and  aldermen  gave  to  the 
Bishop,  at  the  nominal  price  of  one  hundred  dollars, 
seven  acres  of  the  land  for  a  new  orphanage. 

What  a  wave  of  indignation  swept  Protestant 
Manchester  at  what  was  termed  sectarian  distribution 
of  public  property! 

Press  and  pulpit,  clergy  and  laity  protested.  When 
all  had  had  their  say,  Bishop  Delany  had  his,  and  in 
a  manly,  sensible  letter  declined  the  gift  but  asked 
the  privilege  of  buying  it  at  public  auction.  This 
was  granted,  and  in  August  he  purchased  the  seven 
acres  for  sixty-one  hundred  dollars,  its  market  value. 
The  situation  is  ideal.  The  first  sod  was  turned  by 
the  Bishop  on  St.  Joseph's  Day,  and  he  had  accepted 
plans  and  specifications  for  the  work  just  before  his 
summons  came.  Five  buildings  were  to  have  been 
erected.  A  chapel  was  to  stand  in  the  center  of  the 
lot  facing  Bridge  Street;  on  one  side  of  this  was  to 
be  an  infant  asylum,  on  the  other  a  gymnasium;  be- 
yond these,  at  each  end  of  the  lot,  were  to  be  the  two 
orphanages,  one  for  boys  and  the  other  for  girls.  Of 
these,  the  boys'  home  was  to  be  erected  first.  To 
that  end  a  building  fund  had  been  started,  and  a  so- 
ciety formed,  called  St.  Joseph's  Guild,  whose  members 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  317 

pledge  themselves  to  assist  in  erecting  and  maintain- 
ing- the  new  home.  The  yearly  fee  for  membership 
is  but  nominal,  the  spiritual  advantages  were  many, 
and  the  membership  was  already  very  large.  Shortly 
before  his  death,  in  speaking  of  his  hopes  and  plans 
for  this  building,  the  Bishop  said:  "This  will  be  my 
monument."  It  is  devoutly  to  be  hoped  that  this  good 
and  great  work  will  be  accomplished  some  day. 

One  other  big  act  of  charity  that  Bishop  Delany 
hoped  to  accomplish  at  no  very  distant  day  was  the 
erection  of  a  new,  up-to-date  hospital  in  the  center 
of  the  Hanover  Street  Grounds.  At  the  last  annual 
meeting  of  the  Sacred  Heart  Hospital  staff  he  at- 
tended he  announced  his  intention  and  showed  how 
this  much-to-be-desired  end  could  be  achieved  with 
no  additional  burden  to  the  people. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected,  of  course,  that  all  these 
vast  undertakings  could  be  proposed  without  calling 
forth  adverse  criticism.  Some  wondered  in  silence, 
but  many  gave  expression  to  their  fears  that  their 
young  Bishop  would  plunge  parish  and  diocese  into 
bankruptcy. 

They  did  not  realize  the  prudence  and  caution  he 
possessed.  Not  one  of  these  things  was  a  castle 
built  on  air.  Each  one  rested  on  a  foundation,  firm 
and  sure.  The  Bishop  knew  where  the  means  was 
coming  from,  but  that  information  he  purposed  with- 
holding until  conditions  should  justify  its  disclosure. 
Some  of  these  sources  of  revenue,  promised  as  they 
were  to  the  Bishop  himself  apart  from  his  office, 
may  now  never  be  available;  others  were  so  secured 
that  later  the  diocese  will  receive  them  just  the  same. 
Not  until  then,  perhaps,  will  Bishop  Delany's  finan- 
cial foresight  receive  the  appreciation  it  well  deserved. 

The  priests  of  the  diocese,  however,  had  reason 
to  trust  the  Bishop's  wisdom  in  such  matters.  Hard- 


318  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

ly  had  he  assumed  the  duties  of  his  office  when  he 
looked  about  to  see  how  the  diocesan  debt  could  be  re- 
duced. Up  to  that  time,  mortgages  and  notes  owed  by 
the  different  parishes  throughout  the  State  were  held 
largely  by  local  banks  or  individuals,  who  charged  al- 
ways five  per  cent  interest  and  sometimes  as  much  as 
the  law  allows.  The  Bishop  soon  negotiated  with  solid, 
conservative  banking  institutions  in  Manchester  to  take 
all  these  at  a  uniform  rate  of  four  per  cent,  thus  saving 
the  diocese  every  year  the  large  sum  of  sixty-five  hun- 
dred dollars.  When  this  was  announced  to  the  priests 
at  the  semi-annual  conference  in  1905,  for  the  first  and 
only  time  in  the  memory  of  those  present,  the  solem- 
nity of  such  meetings  was  broken  by  hearty  applause. 

His  examination  of  affairs  also  disclosed  that  the 
diocese  was  paying  an  extortionate  insurance  rate. 
In  the  twenty  years  of  its  existence  it  had  paid  in- 
surance companies  about  two  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  had  drawn  for  losses  less  than  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars.  The  Bishop  made  a  study  of  the 
matter  of  insurance,  until  then  a  subject  entirely 
strange  to  him,  and  he  became  convinced  that  Cath- 
olic church  property  is  a  minimum  hazard  and  should 
be  rated  accordingly.  He  soon  perfected  a  plan 
that  promised  to  save  the  diocese  a  very  large  part 
of  its  yearly  insurance  bill,  and  had  the  matter  so 
well  in  hand  that  its  success  was  practically  assured. 

From  what  has  been  thus  far  said  it  might  be 
concluded  that  Bishop  Delany's  effort  during  these 
twenty-one  months  were  all  directed  towards  mater- 
ial ends.  Nothing  could  be  farther  from  the  truth. 
Enormous  as  these  projects  were  —  the  tasks  of  a 
lifetime,  indeed  —  they  were  but  incidental  to  the 
more  important  task  of  saving  souls. 

In  the  eight  months  preceding  his  elevation  to  the 
episcopacy,  of  necessity  no  confirmations  or  visita- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  319 

tions  had  been  made  in  the  diocese,  so  that,  begin- 
ning- in  the  first  week  of  January,  1905,  Bishop 
Delany  had  to  go  from  one  end  of  the  State 
to  the  other,  visiting  convents  and  schools,  and 
giving  confirmation,  and  not  until  the  end  of 
the  next  October  was  this  accumulated  work 
cleared  away.  This  year,  during  the  month  of 
January,  he  again  visited  all  the  religious  houses 
under  his  jurisdiction,  and  had  a  personal  interview 
with  every  member  of  their  communities.  On  the 
8th  of  May  he  confirmed  at  Newport  the  first  class 
in  1906,  and  between  that  date  and  the  5th  of  June 
he  had  given  confirmation  in  eighteen  different  places. 
On  these  occasions  he  usually  examined  the  children 
himself,  heard  confessions,  and  preached  both  in  Eng- 
lish and  French.  Here,  too,  he  did  effective  work  in 
the  cause  to  which  he  was  most  devoted,  by  pledging 
every  child  that  he  confirmed  to  total  abstinence  from  in- 
toxicating drink  until  the  age  of  twenty  one.  More- 
over, if  he  was  told  of  people  in  the  parish  too  old  or 
too  sick  to  come  to  church  he  often  went  to  their 
homes,  and  it  would  be  hard  to  say  which  received 
the  more  pleasure  from  the  visit. 

Between  times  the  Bishop  also  officiated  at  special 
church  dedications  and  delivered  addresses  at  many 
noteworthy  functions  both  in  and  out  of  the  diocese. 
At  school  entertainments  and  commencements,  at 
meetings  of  sodalities  or  other  organizations,  he  was 
glad  to  contribute  his  mite  toward  encouragement 
and  inspiration.  He  particularly  liked  to  speak  to 
young  men,  for  whom  his  ideals  were  high.  Twice 
in  Lowell  and  at  the  cathedral  in  Boston  he  addressed 
immense  gatherings  of  the  Knights  of  Columbus. 
He  urged  upon  them  an  appreciation  of  all  that  the 
title  implies  of  privilege  and  duty. 


320  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

The  following  was  his  address  to  a  large  gather- 
ing in  his  native  city: — 

"The  nature  of  this  audience -Knights  of  Colum- 
bus— suggests  as  the  subject  of  my  address,  "Knight- 
hood and  the  Duty  of  the  Hour." 

Unless  your  name  bear  something  of  significance  it 
is  a  silly  assumption.  But  it  has  a  significance.  In 
the  design  of  the  founders  of  this  order,  men  of  lofty 
purpose,  in  the  sanction  of  the  Church  and  the  en- 
couragement of  the  priests  and  bishops  which  your 
order  has  received,  from  the  composition  of  your 
body — the  choice  young  Catholic  men  of  the  country, 
— you  are  expected  to  emulate,  as  far  as  conditions 
will  admit,  the  example  of  those  whose  proud  name 
you  bear. 

There  is  no  brighter  page  in  the  world's  history 
than  that  on  which  is  written  the  deed  and  daring 
of  the  knight  of  old.  After  the  institution  of  the 
holy  priesthood  there  was,  perhaps,  no  higher,  holier, 
nobler  institution  than  that  of  knighthood.  The 
flower  of  youth  was  chosen.  They  were  trained  in 
virtue,  skilled  in  arms,  devoted  to  the  cause  of  right 
and  to  the  elevation  of  womanhood,  and  they  were 
consecrated  by  the  solemn  vows  of  religion  to  the 
profession  for  which  they  had  given  their  lives. 
Remember,  too,  this  was  in  a  semi-barbarous  age 
when  might  prevailed  over  right,  when  the  claims  of 
the  weak  and  helpless  passed  unheeded.  Christen- 
dom itself  was  threatened  with  extinction  by  the 
ravages  of  the  Turks.  Then  began  the  magnificent 
exploits  of  the  Crusaders.  At  the  call  of  Peter  the 
Hermit,  vast  armies  arose  all  over  Europe.  Kings 
and  princes  forgot  their  petty  differences,  ceased 
their  internal  strifes,  banded  together  in  a  common 
cause,  and  set  out  for  the  far  East  to  deliver  the 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  321 

sepulchre  of  Christ  and  the  Christians  of  Palestine 
from  the  thraldom  of  the  infidel.  Those  were  days 
before  the  invention  of  the  railroad  and  the  steamboat, 
and  the  distance  of  thousands  of  miles  had  to  be 
traversed  with  the  poor  conveniences  the  times 
afforded.  Yet  neither  the  distance,  nor  the  difficul- 
ties, nor  the  dangers  of  the  undertaking-  daunted  the 
courage  of  these  knights  of  old,  when  it  was  the 
cause  of  Christ  and  the  cry  of  the  oppressed  that 
appealed  to  them. 

Monks  like  St.  Bernard  quitted  their  monasteries; 
kings  like  St.  Louis  of  France  left  their  kingdoms,  and, 
though  disaster  and  death  awaited  them,  they  were 
ready  and  anxious  to  brave  all  for  the  glorious  cause 
in  which  they  were  enlisted.  Six  different  times 
during  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries  their  vast 
armies  of  chivalrous  knights  traversed  Europe.  And 
five  times  they  failed.  The  road  they  trod  was  marked 
with  the  bones  of  their  dead,  and  many  of  the  sur- 
vivors fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemies  they  had 
gone  to  conquer,  where  a  slavery  worse  than  death 
awaited  them.  But,  even  in  their  failure,  they  ac- 
complished more  for  Europe  and  for  subsequent 
civilization  than  did  all  the  victorious  campaigns  of  a 
Charlemagne  and  Napoleon.  They  lived  for  the  cause 
of  right,  they  fought  and  died  for  it,  and  they  have 
not  died  in  vain.  Our  ideals  of  honor,  our  appre- 
ciation of  the  heroic,  are  all  derived  from  them,  and 
our  highest  standard  of  Christian  devotedness  is  the 
cross  of  the  Crusaders  on  the  walls  of  Jerusalem. 

But  how,  you  may  ask,  does  all  this,  bright  and 
glorious  as  it  is,  how  does  it  apply  to  us  and  what 
can  we  do  to  emulate  examples  like  these  ?  It  is 
true  the  days  of  chivalry  are  passed.  The  Crusader 
goes  on  his  raid  no  more.  In  his  shroud  of  armor 


322  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

he  sleeps,  through  the  centuries,  with  his  sword 
upon  his  breast,  yet  the  cause  for  which  he  fought 
and  died  still  lives,  though  the  enemy  be  different 
from  the  one  he  faced.  You  are  Christian  Catholic 
Knights,  who  else  but  you  should  continue  the 
struggle  ?  You  are  not  required  to  leave  your  home 
or  native  land.  The  test  of  blood  is  not  demanded, 
but  there  is  a  warfare  none  the  less  real,  none  the 
less  vigorous  to  which  you  are  called,  if  you  would 
be  faithful  to  the  title  you  bear.  "  For  God  and  the 
Church  "  was  the  device  of  knighthood.  So  it  should 
be  yours.  We  hear  a  great  deal  these  days  of  the 
rights  of  men,  of  women's  rights,  the  rights  of 
labor,  the  rights  of  capital,  the  rights  of  nations, 
how  seldom  we  hear  of  the  rights  of  God!  In  all 
this  world,  created  by  Him,  redeemed  by  the  pre- 
cious blood  of  His  Divine  Son,  among  all  the  millions 
of  His  children  here  upon  earth  is  there  no  cham- 
pion to  stand  up  and  fight  for  the  rights  of  God  ? 
And  his  holy  spouse,  the  Church,  shall  she  be  as- 
sailed and  oppressed,  shall  she,  the  Mother  of  Saints,  be 
put  down  from  her  high  place  and  driven  out  from 
her  kingdom  among  nations  and  no  son  rise  up  in 
her  defense?  It  shall  not  be.  It  is  to  you, 
Catholic  young  men,  the  call  comes.  It  is  to  you, 
who  acknowledge  the  one  true  God  as  your  Father, 
who  recognize  the  one  true  Church  as  your  mother, 
and  you  will  not  prove  recreant  to  the  trust  con- 
fided to  you. 

The  candidate  for  knighthood  was  prepared  for 
his  vocation  by  the  practice  of  virtue  as  well  as  the 
drill  of  arms.  Honesty,  truth,  loyalty,  and  purity 
were  his  constant  endeavor.  So  should  they  be  yours, 
if  you  would  strive  against  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness. The  violation  of  any  one  of  these  virtues 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  323 

was  a  stain  upon  the  scutcheon  of  a  knight  which 
disgraced  him  forever.  These  virtues  were  the 
source  of  his  strength  and  so  shall  they  be  yours. 

"My  good  sword  carves  the  casques  of  men, 

My  thrust  is  swift  and  sure, 
My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten, 
Because  my  heart  is  pure." 

The  eve  of  the  ceremony  of  knighthood  was  passed 
by  the  young  candidate  in  the  sanctuary  in  prayer  be- 
fore the  Blessed  Sacrament.  Those  knights  of  old 
knew  well  the  source  of  strength.  They  knew  that 
if  they  would  be  faithful  to  the  obligation  about  to 
be  imposed  their  help  must  come  from  heaven,  and 
the  Blessed  Eucharist  is  the  food  of  the  strong.  The 
same  blessed  Lord  whom  they  served  still  abides  in 
the  tabernacle,  and  the  knight  who  would  serve  Him 
now  must  first  find  strength  at  His  feet. 

The  ceremony  over  the  young  man  was  brought 
into  his  ancestral  halls,  to  the  gallery  of  the  por- 
traits of  his  forefathers.  Pausing  before  each 
picture,  the  life  and  exploits  of  these  heroes 
were  recounted  to  him,  how  this  one  excelled 
in  the  arts  of  peace,  how  this  one  fell  in 
the  front  of  battle,  how  another  administered 
justice,  how  this  one  brought  renown  by  his  learning 
or  virtue,  and  while  the  new  knight's  breast  heaved 
with  pride  to  belong  to  so  glorious  a  line,  he  was  told  to 
be  worthy  of  his  sires,  to  do  nothing  that  would  ever 
bring  shame  or  discredit  on  the  proud  name  he  bore. 

No  royal  house  ever  had  a  hall  of  fame  such  as 
the  Catholic  Church.  Saints  and  heroes,  scholars  and 
sages,  without  number,  such  as  the  world  beside  can- 
not boast.  It  is  to  such  a  lineage  you  belong.  Will 
you  by  any  word  or  deed  disgrace  your  heritage  of 
glory? 


324  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

This  may  seem  very  well  in  theory,  but  you  may 
ask  what  is  the  practical  application  of  it  all?  Well, 
I  answer,  it  is  all  very  real,  it  is  all  very  practical.  I 
am  not  sending  you  off  on  vain  quests,  on  romantic 
pursuits.  There  was  a  knight  once,  Don  Quixote, 
who  in  another  age  sought  to  revive  the  glories  of 
chivalry,  and  fought  windmills.  While  we  may  admire 
his  zeal  we  can  only  smile  at  his  judgment.  Windmills 
there  are  in  our  days  as  well,  but  they  are  only  wind- 
mills and  are  not  worthy  of  our  prowess. 

You  are  Americans  living  in  the  twentieth  century. 
You  love  your  country  and  would  serve  it.  There  is 
no  better  way  than  to  strive  to  make  it  Catholic.  It 
has  been  contended  that  Catholics  cannot  be  good  cit- 
izens, because,  forsooth,  they  "owe  allegiance  to  foreign 
power."  I  declare  that  a  Catholic  true  to  his  faith 
must  be  and  can  be  only  a  good  citizen,  for  his  reli- 
gion makes  the  violation  of  the  law  not  only  a  crime 
but  a  sin  as  well. 

You  are  Catholics  and  would  serve  your  Church? 
Here  is  a  work  at  your  very  hand.  Leave  it  not  to 
priest  or  bishop.  You  can  reach  people  these  never 
can.  It  is  true  you  are  not  called  upon  to  preach 
as  they,  but  the  best  possible  preaching  is  the  influence 
of  an  upright  life.  "Let  your  light  shine  before  men 
and  they  shall  glorify  your  Father  who  is  in  Heaven." 
A  timely  word,  a  kind  act,  a  generous  deed,  will  re- 
dound not  only  to  you  but  to  the  religion  which  inspires 
it.  Be  sober,  industrious,  loyal,  courteous,  God-fearing, 
and  brave,  and  the  proudest  knight  of  old  would  hail 
thee  as  brother.  You  are  one  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  strong.  What  could  not  such  an  army  do 
if  animated  with  the  zeal  of  Crusaders?  You 
need  not  sigh  for  the  days  gone  by.  The 
world  never  offered  such  opportunity  as  it  does 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  325 

at  present.  Protestantism  is  disintegrating-.  The 
supernatural  is  losing  its  hold  on  the  souls  of 
men.  The  Catholic  Church  is  the  only  bulwark  be- 
tween them  and  infidelity.  The  American  people  are 
fair-minded,  honest,  truth-loving.  They  are  ready  for 
the  word — "the  fields  are  white  for  the  harvest."  How 
can  they  believe  if  they  have  not  heard,  and  how  can 
they  hear  if  there  be  no  one  to  tell  them?  Suppose, 
each  of  you,  Knights  of  Columbus,  brings  one  a 
year  into  the  fold  of  Christ,  the  spiritual  conquest  of 
America  will  not  be  far  off. 

Then  there  are  the  corporal  works  of  mercy.  These, 
too,  come  within  the  scope  of  your  order.  I  know  well 
the  work  your  Massachusetts  branch  is  doing  for  de- 
pendent children,  the  stray  lambs  of  the  flock  of 
Christ,  and  I  congratulate  you  for  it.  Be  not  content 
simply  with  the  work  of  your  council — be  you  active, 
earnest,  zealous  in  every  work  of  Christian  beneficence, 
but  let  the  spirit  of  faith  vivify  all  that  you  do,  otherwise 
you  will  not  differ  from  the  heathen  and  the  publican. 
There  was  once  a  Christian  knight,  Sir  Launfal  by 
name.  He  went  in  search  of  the  Holy  Grail,  the  cup 
used  by  Our  Saviour  at  the  Last  Supper.  Blameless 
of  life  he  was,  but  his  quest  proved  in  vain.  Broken 
in  spirit  and  health  he  returned  to  his  ancestral  castle 
to  find  himself  an  outcast.  Beside  that  closed  gate  he 
learned  from  a  poor  beggar  what  true  Christian  char- 
ity meant.  He  had  no  gold  to  give  now,  and  when 
asked  for  an  alms  said  to  the  poor  leper  who  stood 
beside  him: — 

"Thou  also  hast  had  thy  crown  of  thorns, — 

Thou  also  hast  had  the  world's  buffets  and  scorns; — 

And  to  thy  life  were  not  denied 

The  wounds  in  the  hands  and  feet  and  side, 

Mild  Mary's  Son,  acknowledge  me; 

Behold,  through  Him,  I  give  to  thee." 


326  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Sir  Launfal  shared  with  the  beggar  his  crust  of 
coarse  brown  bread.  He  broke  ice  on  the  stream  near 
by,  and  gave  him  to  drink  from  the  wooden  bowl,  when 
lo!  the  beggar  stood  up  before  him — glorified  1  It  was 
none  other  than  Jesus  Himself  whom  he  had  fed  and 
who  had  assumed  the  guise  of  the  poor  to  teach  the 
lesson  of  perfect  charity.  Had  he  not  declared 
"Whatsoever  thou  doest  to  the  least  of  these  my 
brethren,  thou  doest  unto  Me?"  And  now,  revealed 
in  glory,  He  turned  to  the  Christian  knight  and  said: 

"Who  gives  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three, 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor,  and  Me." 

The  Knights  of  Columbus  of  Manchester,  of  whose 
Council  Bishop  Delany  was  a  member  and  chaplain  since 
its  organization  tendered  him  a  banquet  and  grand  re- 
ception. In  all  the  toasts  of  the  evening  their  loyalty 
and  esteem,  as  well  as  their  pride  and  satisfaction,  were 
feelingly  expressed. 

As  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop  rose  to  resp&nd  he 
was  greeted  with  prolonged  applause.  Three  cheers 
were  given  him  before  he  was  allowed  to  open  his 
impromptu  remarks,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  he 
thanked  all  present  for  the  many  tokens  of  friendship 
which  had  been  given  him  in  the  past,  and  which  he 
prized  most  highly. 

Manchester,  October  2,  1905. 

It  must  have  been  my  Guardian  Angel  on  this,  his 
feast  day,  who  reminded  me  I  had  not  answered 
your  letter  for  my  anniversary.  I  sent  everybody 
else  a  card  of  acknowledgment  but  promised  you  a 
letter  —  and  here  it  is,  though  long  coming. 

One  year  a  bishop!  Who  would  ever  think  it? 
But  it  is  so  and  a  full,  busy  year  it  was,  and  not  an 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  327 

unfruitful  one,  I  hope,  for  the  work  God  gave  me  to 
do.  I  have  had  many  consolations  during  that  time, 
a  thousand  times  more  than  I  had  reason  to  hope 
for.  My  priests  have  been  graciousness  itself  and 
not  once  have  I  seen  or  heard  anything  in  my 
regard  but  what  was  respectful  and  affectionate. 
The  Sisters  have  been  a  source  of  consolation  and 
edification.  The  people  here  in  the  city,  and  all  through 
the  State,  indeed,  have  shown  in  many  ways  their 
confidence.  The  work  has  been  going  on  well  every- 
where and  I  have  been  spared  any  grave  disorder. 

By  rearranging  the  church  debt  I  have  saved  the 
diocese  $6,500  a  year  in  interest,  and  I  am  now  per- 
fecting a  plan  for  insurance  that  will  save  almost  an 
equal  amount  under  this  head. 

The  schools  are  thriving  and  the  children  increas- 
ing in  number  all  the  time.  We  have  more  children  in  our 
Catholic  schools,  according  to  the  proportion  of  popu- 
lation, than  any  other  diocese  in  the  country. 


BISHOP  DELANY'S  FIRST  PASTORAL  LETTER. 

>J<  JOHN  BERNARD, 
By  the  mercy  of  God  and  the   favor  of  the  Holy  Apostolic  See, 

BISHOP   OF    MANCHESTER, 

To  the  clergy  and  faithful  of  the  diocese,    health   and  every 

blessing. 

My  Dearly  Beloved  Brethern  : 

For  many  years  the  first  Sunday  of  Lent  brought 
you  wholesome  and  holy  counsels  from  our  late  good 
bishop  —  now  dead  and  gone.  His  words  thus  ad- 
dressed to  you  were  always  listened  to  with  love  and 
veneration,  and  his  instructions  and  advice  bore 
abundant  fruit  in  your  lives.  As  his  successor  in 


328  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

the  office  of  chief  pastor  of  this  diocese,  I  feel  it  my 
duty  to  say  to  you  a  few  words  on  this  occasion, 
knowing  full  well  that  you  will  receive  them  with  the 
same  filial  piety  that  has  ever  marked  your  conduct 
in  regard  to  those  whom  God  has  placed  over  you 
for  the  government  of  the  Church  and  for  the  sanc- 
tification  of  your  souls. 

I  have  chosen  for  the  subject  of  this,  my  first 
pastoral  letter,  the  Duties  of  Parents  to  Children. 
The  importance  of  this  subject  cannot  be  overesti- 
mated. The  family  is  the  foundation  of  the  Church 
and  the  State.  It  is  the  very  cornerstone  of  our 
whole  social  fabric.  When  parents  acquit  themselves 
of  their  responsibilities  and  govern  their  families  ac- 
cording to  the  law  of  God,  peace,  order,  and  morality 
flourish ;  when  parents  fail  in  these  duties,  strife, 
contention,  and  immorality  prevail.  It  is,  then,  to 
parents  that  I  wish  to  address  myself  and  ask  them 
if,  before  God,  they  are  doing  their  full  duty  in  what 
concerns  those  whom  they  have  brought  into  the 
world. 

St.  Paul  compares  the  union  between  man  and 
wife  to  that  which  exists  between  Christ  and  His 
Church.  Now  the  end  Christ  had  in  view  in  His 
espousal  with  the  Church  was  the  creation  of  souls 
to  love,  honor,  obey,  and  glorify  God.  Such,  too, 
should  be  the  end  of  Christian  marriage.  And  what 
a  glorious  privilege  that  is  1  We  could  not  serve  God 
enough  if  we  had  ten  thousand  hearts  to  love  Him, 
ten  thousand  mouths  to  praise  Him,  ten  thousand 
hands  to  labor  for  Him,  ten  thousand  bodies  to 
sacrifice  to  Him.  But  a  father  and  mother  can,  by 
their  children,  and  their  children's  children,  multiply 
themselves  and  glorify  God  on  earth  for  ages  and 
ages  to  come  when  they  themselves  are  here  no 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  329 

more,  and  in  them  will  be  fulfilled  the  words  of  the 
psalmist,  "My  seed  will  serve  the  Lord  and  I  will 
bless  Him  for  all  time."  This,  I  know,  my  beloved 
brethren,  is  your  understanding-  of  the  blessings  of 
holy  wedlock.  Let  us  see  how  these  may  be 
realized. 

It  has  been  well  said,  if  we  would  make  a  gentle- 
man we  must  begin  with  his  grandfather.  If  we 
would  make  a  saint  we  must  begin  with  his  parents. 
For  proof,  you  have  many  examples  in  Holy  Scrip- 
ture. Recall  the  beautiful  story  of  Anna,  who  asked 
God  for  a  son,  vowing  the  child  at  the  same  time  to 
His  service  in  the  temple.  God  heard  her  prayer 
and  sent  her  the  child,  who  became  the  great 
prophet  Samuel.  The  lives  of  the  saints  furnish  us 
many  similar  instances  of  children  offered  to  God 
before  they  were  born,  who  afterwards  became  the 
glory  of  the  Church.  If  then,  parents,  you  would 
have  your  children  holy,  you  must  first  sanctify 
yourselves.  Remember,  too,  that  as  surely  as  you 
impart  your  physical  defects  to  your  offspring  so 
you  transmit  to  them  your  moral  weaknesses  as  well. 
The  leopard  cannot  change  his  spots  and  the  young 
crow  will  be  as  black  as  the  parent  bird.  Your  first 
duty,  then,  is  to  keep  your  minds  and  your  hearts 
pure  and  free  from  sin. 

Of  the  care  you  should  have  for  the  bodies  of  your 
children,  I  have  little  to  say.  The  natural  love  of 
parents  for  children  is  usually  enough  to  cause  them 
to  guard  carefully  the  health  of  their  little  ones  and 
to  help  them  wax  strong  for  the  future  battles  of 
life.  Some  there  are,  however,  who  fail,  even  in  this 
primary  duty,  unnatural  parents  that  refuse  their 
children  the  little  education  within  their  reach,  and 
put  them  to  work  to  gain  a  mere  pittance,  or  to 


330  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

leave  a  shiftless  father  in  idleness.  Such  parents 
hardly  allow  their  children  the  time  the  law  requires 
before  sending  them  into  the  mills.  They  permit 
them  instruction  barely  sufficient  for  receiving  their 
first  Holy  Communion,  so  desirous  are  they  to  profit 
by  their  toil.  They  make  poor  little  slaves  of  their 
children,  and  stunt  them  forever  in  mind  and  body, 
Shame,  say  we,  on  such  parents !  What  affection  can 
they  expect  from  children  subjected  to  such  abuse? 

More  often,  however,  parents  fail  in  their  duty 
towards  the  spiritual  needs  of  their  children. 

Now  the  first  right  the  child  has  is  that  of  relig- 
ious instruction.  God  made  the  child  to  know  Him 
and  love  Him  and  serve  Him.  How  can  he  know, 
love,  and  serve  God  unless  he  be  instructed  in  these 
duties?  For  three  thousand  years  children  had  no 
other  teachers  than  their  parents.  They  learned 
from  them  the  mysteries  of  faith,  the  duties  of 
religion.  "Listen,  my  child,"  says  the  prophet,  "to 
the  teaching  of  thy  father  and  depart  not  from  the 
law  of  thy  mother."  What  lessons  do  they  learn 
from  you,  Christian  parents?  If  nothing  worse,  are 
they  not  lessons  of  vanity,  worldly  ambition,  avarice  ? 
Do  you  give  them  the  opportunity  to  learn  their  religion 
in  their  own  schools  ?  Or  do  you  find  excuses  for  send- 
ing them  elsewhere,  flattering  yourselves  that  while 
other  children  require  such  instruction  to  keep  them 
in  the  straight  and  narrow  path,  your  children,  by 
some  mysterious  exemption,  may  be  preserved  with- 
out it?  If  you  do  you  deceive  yourselves.  For  un- 
less your  children  know  their  religion,  and  know  it 
well,  they  run  grave  risk  of  losing  their  faith  or  of 
having  it  degenerate  into  a  superstitious  practice  and 
become  a  mere  hollow  form,  without  benefit  to  their 
lives  or  profit  to  their  souls.  As  these  children  grow 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  331 

up,  they  will  be  surrounded  by  those  of  no  religion 
or  by  those  of  beliefs  contrary  to  their  own,  and, 
unless  they  know  their  religion  and  can  give  a  rea- 
sonable account  of  the  faith  that  is  in  them,  they  can- 
not long  preserve  it.  They  will  go  the  way  of  the 
flesh ;  they  will  bring  ruin  upon  themselves,  and 
sorrow  and  shame  upon  those  who  bore  them.  Ignor- 
ant of  their  religion,  such  children  grow  up  without 
the  knowledge  of  the  first  principles  of  truth,  of 
honesty,  of  morality,  though  they  are  often  wise  in 
their  own  conceit.  They  cannot  tell  you  the  number 
of  sacraments,  but  they  can  tell  you  an  ingenious 
lie;  they  cannot  tell  you  the  commandments  of  God, 
but  they  can  deceive  their  parents  and  cheat  their 
employers;  they  know  but  few  prayers,  yet  they  can 
curse  and  swear,  and  say  immodest  words,  and  blas- 
pheme like  young  demons.  This  wisdom,  indeed, 
they  have,  the  wisdom  that  is  folly  and  worse  than 
folly  in  the  sight  of  Almighty  God. 

As  the  children  grow  older,  they  are  sometimes 
sent  to  non-Catholic  schools  and  colleges  for  reasons 
of  business  or  social  advantages.  Even  if  these  ad- 
vantages be  real  and  certain — which  is  by  no  means 
sure — are  they  not  dearly  bought  at  the  cost  of  the 
faith  of  these  children;  for  "what  doth  it  profit  a 
man  to  gain  the  whole  world  and  suffer  the  loss  of 
his  soul?" 

Besides  the  duty  of  Christian  education,  parents 
have  the  obligation  of  good  example.  No  matter 
what  religious  instruction  the  child  may  receive  in 
the  church  or  in  the  school,  if  the  example  of  the 
parents  at  home  be  bad  these  lessons  will  not  avail. 
St.  Augustine  said  of  his  mother  that  she  softened 
her  reproaches  with  her  tears  but  strengthened  them 
by  her  example.  You,  too,  may  have  cause  to  lament 


332  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

the  faults  of  your  children,  but  in  their  correction 
your  example  will  have  more  effect  than  your  tears. 
They  may  hear  of  angels,  of  saints,  of  holy  souls, 
but  they  see  you,  you  who  are  continually  before 
their  eyes  and  their  minds,  and  if  your  lives  contra- 
dict these  beautiful  lessons  of  faith,  love,  charity, 
humility,  modesty,  how  can  they  ever  learn  them? 
It  is  useless  for  you  to  bid  them  go  to  Mass  if  you 
yourself  stay  at  home  without  sufficient  cause.  You 
may  teach  them  their  prayers,  but  if  they  seldom  or 
never  see  you  upon  your  knees  imploring  God's 
blessing  and  protection,  your  instructions  will  soon 
be  forgotten.  What  will  avail  lessons  of  love  and 
reverence  for  God  and  His  priests  and  His  Church 
if  your  children  hear  at  home  God's  Holy  Name  pro- 
faned, His  priests  criticised,  His  Church  abused?  It 
is  in  the  home  that  children  learn  the  first  lessons 
of  insubordination  to  the  teaching  of  the  Church,  and 
the  example  of  a  headstrong,  heedless  parent  is  the 
cause  of  the  falling  away  from  the  faith  of  countless 
numbers  of  children.  How  could  it  be  otherwise? 
"You  cannot  gather  grapes  from  thorns,  nor  figs 
from  thistles." 

Wherefore,  Christian  parents,  set  your  children  a 
good  example.  If  you  would  have  them  pray,  pray 
yourself;  if  you  would  have  them  faithful  to  attend- 
ance at  holy  Mass,  do  you  never  fail  in  that  duty;  if 
you  would  have  them  honest,  truthful,  sober,  modest, 
reverent,  let  these  virtues  shine  forth  in  your  own 
lives  and  your  children  will  follow  your  example  and 
follow  you  to  heaven. 

One  more  duty  yet  remains.  It  is  that  of  parental 
correction. 

Where  the  devil  fails  on  all  other  points  he  often 
succeeds  in  this.  Many  parents  who  are  careful  of 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  333 

the  instruction  of  their  children,  who  never  fail  to  set 
them  a  good  example,  know  not  how  to  correct  them. 
Some  are  too  indulgent,  some  unreasonably  severe. 
You  know  the  evil  over-indulgence  will  bring  upon  a 
child  and  how  it  redounds  to  the  parent.  You  re- 
member how  Almighty  God  punished  Heli  for  the 
wickedness  of  his  sons;  how  David,  holy  man  that  he 
was,  brought  misery  on  himself  and  destruction  on 
his  sons,  one  after  another,  by  his  laxity. 

If  you  correct  not  your  children  you  will  be  not 
less  excusable  than  these.  If  under  your  care  your 
children  learn  to  curse  and  swear,  to  lie  and  steal, 
and  frequent  bad  company,  and  you  shut  your  eyes 
to  these  faults,  and  fail  to  correct  them  while  you 
may,  your  responsibility  will  be  great  before  God. 
It  is  said  that  the  ape  often  hugs  his  young  to  death 
by  excessive  caresses.  But  that  is  to  act  apelike.  It 
is  no  kindness  to  a  child  to  give  him  his  way,  when 
your  best  judgment  tells  you  it  should  be  otherwise. 

Our  Blessed  Saviour  said:  "Let  the  little  ones  come 
unto  Me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  Into  your  keeping  He  has 
placed  them  as  a  sacred  trust,  and  from  you  he  will 
one  day  require  them.  May  you  esteem  this  holy 
charge  as  did  St.  Hilary,  and  pray  as  he:  "Grant 
me,  my  God,  that  I  may  regard  them  as  Your  creat- 
ures, not  mine;  as  Your  children,  not  mine;  grant  that 
I  may  always  look  upon  them  not  as  a  part  of  my 
body  but  as  the  temple  of  Thy  Holy  Spirit;  grant 
that  I  may  never  do  anything  that  would  cause  them 
to  offend  Thee  and  bring  malediction  on  us  both. 
Thou  blessed  the  little  ones  presented  to  Thee.  Put 
Thy  hands  upon  these  my  children,  bless  them,  and 
keep  them  forever  Thine." 

Given  at  Manchester  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Matthias,  Apostle,  in 
the  Year  of  Our  Lord  Nineteen  Hundred  and  Five. 


334  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

At  the  time  of  his  death  the  Bishop  was  planning 
a  mission  of  his  own.  In  many  parts  of  New  Hamp- 
shire there  are  districts  remote  from  the  centers  of 
activity  and  rarely,  if  ever,  visited  by  a  priest.  People 
live  in  these  parts  who  are  Catholics  in  name,  but  who, 
deprived  of  every  spiritual  advantage  and  consolation, 
have  grown  careless  in  the  practice  of  their  religion 
or  have  unhappily  fallen  away  from  the  Church.  It 
was  the  Bishop's  intention  to  spend  most  of  his  sum- 
mer vacation  among  these.  The  good  he  might  have 
accomplished  had  he  been  spared  can  be  known  only 
to  God. 

While  the  Bishop  fulfilled  thus  exactly  what  might 
be  called  the  exterior  duties  of  his  office,  he  by  no 
means  neglected  the  interior,  i.  e.,  the  direction  of 
those  to  whom  details  must  be  entrusted: — his  priests 
and  religious.  The  different  communities  were  ob- 
jects of  his  various  solicitude.  He  often  said  he  had 
never  known  the  magnitude  of  their  work  until  he 
became  Bishop.  Last  winter  he  secured  the  services 
of  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Family,  an  order  especially 
trained  for  the  management  of  bishops'  households. 
He  neglected  nothing  that  could  contribute  to  the  com- 
fort or  success  of  those  whose  lives  were  consecrated 
to  God. 

As  the  Sisters  of  Mercy  are  in  charge  of  all  insti- 
tutions directly  connected  with  the  cathedral,  the 
Bishop  was  brought  into  closest  relation  with  them. 
Every  member  of  the  institute  felt  she  had  in 
Bishop  Delany  a  true  friend.  While  he  did  not  inter- 
fere in  the  government  of  the  community,  he  made, 
from  time  to  time,  suggestions  for  increasing  the 
efficacy  of  the  work.  One  of  these  was  for  a  system- 
atic visitation  of  the  sick.  Two  Sisters  were  appointed 
for  that  duty  alone.  One  of  these  is  a  graduate  nurse, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  335 

and  together  they  go  over  the  city,  wherever  they  are 
called,  attending  the  sick,  without  remuneration.  Be- 
sides giving  the  comfort  of  personal  ministration,  they 
accomplish  much  for  the  patient  by  showing  those  in 
charge  how  to  care  for  him  intelligently.  The  Bishop's 
purse  was  always  open  to  these  Sisters,  who  had  or- 
ders to  call  upon  him  for  help  at  any  time. 

In  educational  matters  he  took  a  deep  interest. 
He  was  a  frequent  and  welcome  visitor  in  his  parish 
schools,  where  he  delighted  in  conducting  recitations 
himself.  So  well  did  he  question  and  bring  out  the 
best  in  a  pupil  that  it  was  often  said  of  him  that  if 
he  had  not  been  a  priest  he  should  have  been  a 
teacher.  He  watched  particularly  the  progress  of 
the  higher  classes  and  strongly  urged  them  to  con- 
tinue their  course  beyond  the  grammar  grades. 
Every  week,  when  in  the  city,  he  visited  the  cou- 
vents  and  the  different  charitable  institutions,  talked 
over  affairs  with  the  Superiors,  and  sometimes  as- 
sembled all  the  Sisters  for  a  little  chat.  During 
the  Lenten  season  he  gave  the  Sisters  weekly  con- 
ferences, suited  to  the  special  needs  of  their  state. 
These  lectures  were  strong,  helpful,  holy,  "  a  revela- 
tion," in  the  words  of  one  who  heard  them,  "not 
only  of  the  dignity  of  the  religious  calling  but  of  the 
Bishop's  deep  spirituality."  The  discourse  on  daily 
Holy  Communion  made  a  lasting  impression  on  all. 
The  keynote  of  all  his  talks,  whether  to  the  Sisters 
individually  or  in  community,  was  the  keynote  of  his 
character  —  courage.  He  inspired.  "I  always  felt 
so  much  more  like  work,"  says  one,  "after  I  had 
had  a  talk  with  the  Bishop." 

Of  his  relations  with  his  priests,  his  chancellor 
said :  "  He  was  growing  every  day  in  our  affections, 
and  this  wholly  because  of  his  own  attitude  toward 


336  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

us.  As  a  father  loves  his  children,  so  Bishop  Delany 
loved  his  priests.  He  rejoiced  in  our  success,  left 
nothing  undone  to  promote  it,  and  was  troubled  only 
as  those  who  have  his  loving-  nature  are  troubled, 
when  difficulties  arise  in  their  work.  He  was  not  at 
all  demonstrative,  but  no  man  could  be  more  appre- 
ciative. Nothing  escaped  his  notice,  and  every  good 
work  of  his  priests,  every  effort  however  slight,  was 
treasured  in  his  memory.  He  kept  an  eye  on  men 
often  overlooked  —  humble,  simple,  hard  workers  — 
and  knew  just  what  each  one  was  doing.  He  was 
the  curates'  friend.  With  the  consent  of  his  council, 
he  decreed  after  the  November  conference  in  1905, 
that  all  curates  who  had  served  three  years  should 
receive  one  hundred  dollars  increase  in  salary. 
He  was  proud  of  his  priests,  and  often  spoke  of 
them  in  words  of  praise.  His  confidence  in  us  was 
implicit,  but  never  did  one  of  us  dare  to  abuse  that 
confidence,  for  although  he  was  gentle  as  a  child, 
yet  he  ruled  with  a  firm  hand  and  never  hesitated 
to  rebuke  or  chastise  when  occasion  demanded.  To 
none  will  his  death  be  so  great  a  loss  as  to  his  own 
priests." 

Not  alone  in  the  affections  of  his  own  people  was 
Bishop  Delany  winning  a  place.  Those  not  of  his 
faith  respected  him  for  all  that  he  was  and  all  that 
he  meant  to  do.  They  recognized  that  he  was  work- 
ing, not  for  his  own  glory  but  for  the  advancement 
of  a  common  cause.  The  highest  dignitaries  of  the 
Church  had  set  the  seal  of  approval  on  his  work. 
One  of  these,  who,  by  reason  of  position,  knew 
something  of  his  labors  and  plans,  said  to  a  brother 
prelate  :  "I  like  the  Bishop  of  Manchester.  I  like 
his  piety  and  zeal.  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  he  is  the  right  man  in  the  right  place." 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  337 

It  would  be  impossible  to  relate  all  the  instances 
that  have  been  given  of  Bishop  Delany's  friendship 
and  devotedness  to  the  Religious  of  his  diocese.  The 
following1  words  are  from  members  of  some  of  the 
communities  that  were  under  his  care. 

"The  consoling  and  encouraging-  words  and  chari- 
table deeds  of  our  ever  regretted  Bishop  I  can  never 
forget  and  I  wish  I  could  make  them  known  to  the 
entire  world. 

"  I  feel  convinced  that  next  to  God  and  His  Blessed 
Mother  I  owe  my  vocation  as  a  Sister  of  the  Precious 
Blood  to  Bishop  Delany.  From  the  time  I  first  spoke 
to  him  of  my  desire  to  give  myself  to  God  he,  like  a 
good  father,  continually  watched  over  me. 

"I  had  the  happiness  of  having-  the  preparatory 
retreat  of  my  profession  preached  by  my  dear  Bishop. 
Notwithstanding  the  many  duties  claiming  his  time 
and  attention  he  delighted  in  giving  several  instruc- 
tions a  day.  His  conferences  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  the  retreat  were  most  inspiring  and  plainly 
revealed  the  secret  charm  of  his  inner  soul  and  deep 
spirituality.  The  one  grand  virtue  which  he  dwelt 
and  insisted  upon  more  than  any  other  was  Charity. 
Since  he  himself  possessed  this  sublime  virtue  in  all 
its  characteristics  he  could  fittingly  dwell  upon  it  at 
length  and  encourage  others  to  its  practice.  Words 
fall  far  short  of  expressing  his  great  estimation  of  it. 
In  one  of  his  conferences  he  said:  'My  dear  Sisters, 
our  hearts  should  be  altars  on  which  the  fire  of 
charity  should  ever  burn,  and  the  love  we  bear  to  God 
and  our  neighbors  should  be  the  oil  which  will  con- 
stantly feed  the  flames.' 

"The  series  of  instructions  on  the  'Apostles'  Creed' 
given  by  our  beloved  Bishop,  can  never  be  forgotten 
by  those  who  were  privileged  to  hear  them. 


338  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

"I  found  a  depth  of  kindness  in  him  far  beyond  any 
I  had  ever  met  before.  He  truly  had  the  heart  of  a 
mother.  Nothing-  was  a  trouble  to  him  ;  no  amount 
of  time  too  much  to  give  when  there  was  a  question 
of  comforting- or  consoling- a  soul  in  trouble.  All  was 
so  natural  and  unaffected  that  his  kindness  seemed  to 
be  part  of  himself.  To  my  mind  he  was  a  perfect 
model  of  candor  and  honesty.  I  never  knew  him  once 
to  say  'I  will  do  so  and  so'  and  not  keep  his  word. 
When  once  he  said  he  would  do  a  thing-,  you  were  as 
sure  of  its  being  done  as  if  it  had  already  been  ac- 
complished. 

"  His  charity  was  really  remarkable  ;  he  never  made 
an  uncharitable  remark.  One  word  said  contrary  to  this 
virtue  in  his  presence  was  like  driving  a  sword  through 
his  heart.  He  always  spoke  kindly  of  the  absent  and 
if  one  hundred  faults  were  mentioned  ag-ainst  them  he 
was  sure  to  find  a  virtue  which  they  possessed.  Anyone 
who  wished  to  be  his  friend  had  to  make  up  his 
mind  from  the  beginning  to  be  perfectly  charitable. 
When  once  he  was  your  friend  he  was  your  friend 
forever.  No  matter  what  happened  he  was  the  true 
faithful  father.  His  love  for  our  Community  was  plainly 
shown  in  the  personal  interest  he  took  in  each  sister; 
not  only  in  their  souls,  but  in  their  work  also.  He  was 
always  ready  to  make  a  pleasant  little  joke  to  help  us 
forget  our  weariness.  To  one  sister,  who  took  a 
notion  to  do  carpenter  work,  he  said  :  'Why  sister,  you 
will  be  well,  sawdust  is  fine  board.'  No  matter  how 
he  was  pressed  with  work,  if  there  was  anything  he 
could  do  for  a  sister,  or  the  Community,  he  left  every- 
thing aside  to  come  to  their  assistance.  On  one 
occasion  a  sermon  had  been  announced,  and  the  priest 
who  was  to  preach  sent  word  a  few  hours  before  that  he 
could  not  come.  Our  Superior  sent  word  to  Father 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  339 

two  hours  before  the  time  for  the  sermon,  asking-  him 
what  she  would  do.  He  replied:  'Do  not  worry 
about  that,  I  will  see  to  it.'  The  chapel  was  then 
crowded.  As  soon  as  the  bell  rang1  he  came  up  through 
the  chapel,  took  his  place  at  the  pulpit,  and  preached 
for  over  half  an  hour.  When  the  Superior  saw  him 
coming-  she  said:  'Oh,  that  faithful  Father,  no  one 
will  ever  find  herself  in  a  difficulty  where  he  is.' 
No  matter  where  he  went  we  always  knew  he  was 
our  Father  and  our  friend.  In  every  trouble,  we  could 
turn  to  him  for  help  with  entire  confidence.  May 
God  rest  the  soul  of  good  Bishop  Delany." 

"  One  Sunday  afternoon  in  winter,  only  a  few  months 
before  his  death,  he  rode  in  a  double  sleigh  to  the 
new  chapel  to  visit  the  Sunday  school.  He  conducted 
the  classes  and  delighted  the  pupils  with  stories  of 
the  beautiful  Child  Jesus  at  Nazareth.  One  very  sweet 
illustration  of  prayer  was  given  by  him  to  the 
younger  children.  He  told  them  a  pleasing-  story  of 
a  child  speaking  to  its  father  through  the  telephone. 
From  this  he  explained  how  prayer  might  be  called 
God's  telephone,  connecting-  our  hearts  with  the 
Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus.  He  concluded  by  saying: 
'When  we  pray  our  desires  are  borne  to  heaven,  and 
carried  in  the  golden  censers  of  the  angels  to  our 
Almighty  Father.'  When  singing  time  came  he 
asked  the  boys  and  girls  what  hymns  they  would  like 
to  sing.  A  chorus  of  voices  responded :  'Vivat  Pastor 
Bonus!'  'Oh,  no!'  the  Bishop  said,  'I  want  to  sing 
too!'  They  sang  'Holy  God'  and  'Veni  Jesu,'  his 
rich,  full  notes  mingling  with  the  childish  treble. 

"After  dismissal  many  of  the  children  remained  out- 
side waiting  for  the  Bishop.  When  he  appeared  he 
was  beseiged  on  all  sides.  Noticing  the  boys'  ad- 


340  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

miration  of  the  horses,  his  thoughtfulness  suggested  a 
ride.  The  driver  was  dismissed,  and  the  sleigh  was 
soon  filled  with  happy  children.  With  an  injunction 
to  the  Sisters  to  keep  the  remainder  of  the  group 
until  he  would  return  for  them,  off  he  drove  with  his 
load  of  joyous  little  folks,  and  his  own  great  be- 
nevolent heart  the  happiest  of  all.  In  an  hour's  time 
he  returned  with  his  laughing,  rosy-cheeked  company. 
Quickly  the  waiting  ones  were  in  the  sleigh  and  as 
quickly  rode  away,  with  a  remark  from  the  Bishop 
that  this  was  an  instance  where,  'the  last  may  not 
be  the  least.'  The  next  day,  the  boys  were  enthu- 
siastic in  their  descriptions  of  the  ride.  An  absentee 
from  Sunday-school  argued  modestly  that  he  preferred 
coasting.  The  conscience-stricken  lad  was  almost 
mobbed  by  a  group  of  boys  shouting:  'Ah,  you  think 
stolen  fun  on  a  double-runner  better  than  a  dandy 
ride  with  the  Bishop!' 

"  At  one  of  our  ceremonies  of  Reception  and  Profess- 
ion at  which  our  good  Bishop  condescended  to  preside 
and  also  to  preach  he  took  for  the  subject  of  his 
sermon  'The  Love  of  God,'  saying  that  a  ceremony 
of  this  kind  had  no  meaning  except  it  could  be  explained 
by  the  love  of  God  on  one  side  in  choosing  the  crea- 
ture to  be  His  own  and  the  love  on  the  creature's  side 
in  leaving  all  for  God.  After  the  ceremony  was  over, 
the  Bishop  went  to  the  cloister  and  entered  into  fa- 
miliar conversation  with  the  Sisters.  One  of  them, 
still  under  the  impressions  produced  by  the  sermon, 
congratulated  him  on  the  choice  he  had  made  of  a  subject 
and  his  beautiful  treatment  of  it.  'Well, 'he  replied, 
'love  is  a  better  motive  to  serve  God  from  than  fear. 
For  my  part  I  cannot  fear  God,  I  can  only  love  him.' 

"  Until  the  recent  decree  of  our  Holy  Father  Pius  X. 
on  Holy  Communion,  our  devoted  confessor  always 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  341 

desired  the  Sisters  to  abstain  one  day  in  the  week  from 
the  Sacred  Table.  His  reason  for  this  was  that  so 
holy  an  action  might  not  become  one  of  routine.  After 
the  decree  on  Daily  Communion,  on  the  Feast  of  the 
Precious  Blood,  our  good  Bishop  came  to  say  Mass  at 
the  Monastery.  When  the  Holy  Sacrifice  was  finished, 
the  Sisters  assembled  to  hear  his  words  of  instruction. 
He  spoke  to  them  for  over  an  hour,  and  before  leaving 
he  presented  them  with  a  copy  of  the  decree  of  the  Holy 
Father,  saying:  '  My  dear  children,  I  could  not  offer  you 
a  more  precious  gift  on  this  beautiful  feast  of  your 
Institute  than  this  decree  of  our  Holy  Father.  Profit 
by  it,  receive  Holy  Communion  daily.  I  have  always 
believed  that  the  Holy  Sacrifice  was  not  consummated 
without  the  distribution  of  Holy  Communion,  and  for 
this  reason,  I  have  always  wished  to  give  It  to  some 
of  those  in  attendance  at  Mass.' 

"  His  compassion  and  tenderness  of  heart  towards  all 
who  were  in  affliction  were  Christlike.  Hearing  that 
death  had  taken  the  mother  of  one  of  the  Sisters  he 
came  immediately  to  offer  her  his  sympathy  and  with- 
out being  asked  said  Mass  for  the  repose  of  her  soul. 
When  a  second  bereavement  came  shortly  after  he 
made  another  visit  to  comfort  the  same  Sister.  Taking 
her  hand  in  his,  as  the  kindest  of  fathers  and  most 
sympathetic  of  friends,  he  said:  'Come  Sister,  tell 
me  all  about  it.'  As  she  related  the  details  of  the 
death,  he  wept  with  her,  and  yet  comforted  her  as  the 
Consoler  of  the  afflicted,  as  the  True  Shepherd  of  souls 
would  do. 

"  On  one  occasion,  the  older  children  in  the  Cathedral 
schools  were  having  a  picnic,  some  miles  out  in  the 
country.  The  Bishop  did  not  forget  the  'little 
Rosaries'  as  he  loved  to  call  them.  He  spent  the 
morning  listening  to  their  recitations  in  different  les- 


342  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

sons,  at  intervals  sing-ing  a  bright  song  with  them. 
When  he  was  leaving1,  he  said  :  'Sister,  I  came  to 
give  these  pupils  a  holiday  ;  instead,  they  have  given 
me  two  hours  of  solid  enjoyment.'  He  placed  a  sum 
of  money  on  the  desk  as  he  remarked:  'I  wish  the 
children  in  all  the  rooms  to  have  a  feast  to-morrow 
afternoon.'  The  Sister  considered  the  amount  given 
too  large,  as  the  mothers  of  the  pupils  were  exceed- 
ingly generous  on  such  occasions.  His  only  answer 
to  her  remonstrances  was:  'What  is  spent  in  giv- 
ing innocent  pleasure  to  God's  little  ones  is  placed 
at  a  high  rate  of  interest  for  that  eternity  which  is 
not  far  away  for  any  of  us,  and  very  near  for  some.'" 


SECOND  PASTORAL  LETTER. 
^  JOHN  BERNARD, 
By  the  mercy  of  God  and  the   favor  of  the  Holy  Apostolic  See, 

BISHOP   OF    MANCHESTER, 

To   the  clergy   and  faithful  of  the   diocese,    health   and  every 

blessing. 

My  Dearly  Beloved  Brethern  : 

Although  we  hold  you  always  in  pious  memory,  yet 
the  approach  of  the  holy  season  of  Lent,  the  spring- 
time of  God's  grace,  impels  us  to  address  to  you,  in 
a  special  manner,  words  of  warning  and  advice  on 
the  grave  concerns  of  your  spiritual  welfare.  Last 
year,  on  this  occasion,  we  spoke  to  you  of  the  Duties 
of  Parents  to  their  Children,  and  we  have  every 
reason  to  hope  that  our  words  of  counsel  have  borne 
fruit  in  your  lives.  This  year  we  would  speak  to 
you  on  the  all-important  subject  of  Religious  Instruc- 
tion. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  343 

Our  Faith  is  our  most  precious  earthly  possession. 
It  is  the  pearl  above  price.  To  appreciate  it  we  must 
know  its  nature  and  its  purpose,  and  to  preserve  it 
we  must  exercise  a  constant  care. 

Faith,  according1  to  the  Catechism,  is  a  gift  of  God, 
a  divine  virtue  by  which  we  believe  all  that  God 
teaches  us.  Now,  God  teaches  us  not  only  by  his 
written  words,  which  we  call  Holy  Scripture,  but  by 
the  living1,  active,  spoken  words  of  his  authoritative 
teachers  as  well.  This  is  evident  from  the  commis- 
sion our  Blessed  Lord  g-ave  to  His  apostles  when  He 
said:  "Go  ye  into  the  whole  world,  and  preach  the 
gospel  to  every  creature"  (St.  Mark,  xvi.,  15).  We 
must,  then,  know  what  God  requires  of  us.  This 
knowledge  comes  to  us,  principally,  from  Religious 
Instruction.  Let  us  try  to  realize  how  important 
this  is. 

In  a  recent  Encyclical,  our  Holy  Father,  Pope  Pius 
X.,  ascribes  all  the  irreligion  of  our  day  to  ig-norance 
of  divine  things.  This  ignorance  is  not  confined  to 
those  of  the  humbler  classes,  who  have  little  time  or 
inclination  for  intellectual  culture.  It  extends  to  those 
even  who  are  conspicuous  for  their  knowledge  of  pro- 
fane science.  "How  many  there  are,"  he  adds,  "  who 
know  nothing  of  God,  the  Supreme  Ruler  of  the  world; 
who  know  nothing1  of  Jesus  Christ,  their  Saviour ; 
who  know  nothing  of  His  saving  grace,  nor  the  sac- 
raments by  which  this  is  applied  to  the  souls  of 
men!"  Well  may  we  say  with  the  prophet:  "There 
is  no  knowledge  of  God  in  the  land.  Cursing  and 
lying  and  killing  and  theft  have  overflowed,  and  blood 
hath  touched  blood.  Therefore  shall  the  land  mourn, 
and  everyone  that  dwelleth  in  it  shall  languish " 
(Osee,  iv.,  1).  How  many  there  are  who  go  down  to 
their  death  in  this  lamentable  state  without  ever  hav- 


344  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

ing  propitiated  the  anger  of  God  for  the  sins  of  a 
lifetime  !  It  is  no  wonder  that  the  holy  pontiff,  Bene- 
dict XIV.,  declared  "the  greater  part  of  those  who 
are  damned  have  brought  the  calamity  on  themselves 
by  ignorance  of  the  mysteries  of  the  faith,  which 
they  should  have  known  and  believed  in  order  to  be 
united  to  the  elect." 

God  forbid,  my  dearly  beloved  brethren,  that  such 
should  be  the  lot  of  any  one  of  us !  Yet  it  behooves 
us  to  see  to  it  that  we  have  the  knowledge  of  relig- 
ion which  God  demands  of  us,  and  that  we  instruct 
those  whom  God  has  committed  to  our  care.  There 
has  never  been  a  time  when  religious  instruction  was 
more  necessary  than  at  present.  Every  doctrine  of 
our  holy  faith,  from  the  existence  of  God  down  to 
the  least  Catholic  practice  of  devotion,  is  denied  or 
assailed.  Sometimes  it  is  attacked  by  open  hostility, 
but  more  often  by  a  chilling  indifference,  or  by  a 
bitter  ridicule  of  all  the  claims  of  religion.  We  must, 
then,  be  ever  ready  to  give  a  reasonable  account  of 
the  belief  that  is  in  us  :  first,  to  ourselves,  lest  we 
succumb  to  the  temptations  that  beset  us;  and, 
secondly,  to  the  honest  inquirer  who  asks  light  and 
guidance  from  us.  We  do  not  maintain  that  know- 
ledge of  religion  is  an  absolute  safeguard  of  faith. 
Would  that  facts  did  not  prove  the  contrary  !  "But," 
says  our  Holy  Father  again,  "where  the  mind  is  en- 
veloped in  the  dark  clouds  of  ignorance  there  cannot 
be  either  rectitude  or  morality.  For  although  a  man 
with  eyes  open  can  turn  away  from  the  right  path, 
the  blind  man  is  constantly  in  danger  of  going  wrong." 

Let  us  see  how  this  religious  instruction  can  be 
imparted. 

IN  THE  HOME.  The  home  is  the  first  school,  and 
the  parents  are  the  first  divinely  constituted  teach- 


OF   BISHOP  DELANY  345 

ers  of  religion  and  morality.  Holy  Writ  says: 
"  Listen,  my  child,  to  the  teaching  of  thy  father  and 
depart  not  from  the  law  of  thy  mother."  This 
instruction  should  begin  at  the  very  dawn  of  the 
child's  intelligence.  The  first  words  he  utters  should 
be  the  sweet  names  of  Jesus  and  Mary,  and  his  first 
coherent  sentences  a  simple,  childlike  prayer.  As 
the  mind  and  heart  open,  the  child  should  be  told  of 
God,  of  our  Saviour,  of  His  Holy  Mother,  of  his  own 
guardian  angel.  Later,  he  should  be  told  of  sin,  and 
how  displeasing  it  is  to  God.  He  should  be  taught 
to  be  honest,  truthful,  candid.  No  occasion  should 
be  let  pass  to  impress  upon  his  mind  the  love  and 
fear  of  his  heavenly  Father.  He  should  be  taught 
his  prayers,  and  made  to  kneel  by  your  side,  morn- 
ing and  night,  and  to  repeat  them  devoutly.  He 
should  be  brought  to  the  church  occasionally  to 
assist  at  Holy  Mass,  and  there  instructed  in  pious 
reverence  for  holy  things.  When  he  reaches  the  age 
of  seven,  he  must  be  prepared  for  making  his  con- 
fession. Already  you  must  be  watchful  of  the  com- 
panions that  he  keeps  and  the  examples  that  are  set 
before  him.  In  this  early  instruction  of  the  child, 
there  is  one  word  of  warning  we  would  give  the 
parents  :  let  not  your  lessons  in  religion  be  lessons 
of  rote  simply.  Prayers  are  not  formularies  only, 
nor  are  reverences  merely  postures  of  the  body. 
They  are  the  expressions  of  love  for  God.  Make  not 
these  pious  practices  burdensome  and  distasteful  to 
your  little  ones.  Render  them,  rather,  as  beautiful 
and  attractive  as  you  can  devise.  Early  training  like 
this  has  made  saints.  St.  Louis  of  France  never  forgot 
the  lessons  given  him  in  childhood  by  his  mother. 
All  the  days  of  his  life  he  recalled  her  words:  "My 
child,  much  as  I  love  you,  I  would  sooner  see  you 


346  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

dead  than  to  know  you  had  committed  one  mortal 
sin  !"  Christian  parents,  make  saints  of  the  children 
God  has  given  you. 

IN  THE  SCHOOL.  After  the  home  training-,  in  point  of 
importance,  as  well  as  in  point  of  time,  comes  relig- 
ious instruction  in  school.  Without  this,  home  in- 
fluence will  count  for  little  or  nothing.  So  convinced 
is  the  Church  of  the  necessity  of  this  training  that  she 
commands  us  to  build  schools  and  maintain  them  at 
whatever  cost  or  sacrifice,  in  order  that  her  children 
may  acquire  an  adequate  knowledge  of  their  religion 
when  it  can  best  be  imparted  to  them.  This  is  the 
Church's  way  of  making  faithful,  loyal  Catholics. 
Her  thousands  of  years  of  experience  have  proved 
the  truth  of  the  adage,  "Bring  up  a  child  in  the  way 
he  should  go,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart 
from  it."  So  necessary  are  these  schools  for  the 
preservation  of  the  faith,  that,  were  we  obliged  to 
choose  between  their  maintenance  and  that  of  the 
church,  we  would  close  the  church,  rather  than  the 
school,  knowing  full  well  that  if  we  bring  up  children 
as  good,  faithful  Catholics  they  will  provide  churches 
for  themselves  in  the  future.  If,  on  the  other  band, 
our  schools  should  cease  to  be,  we  would  have  no 
need  of  churches  for  the  next  generation. 

In  secular  training  our  schools  are  not  inferior  to 
the  public  schools,  as  public  authorities  themselves 
testify.  Our  children  learn  all  that  other  children 
learn  in  school,  and  more,  besides.  They  learn  to 
know  God  and  His  holy  precepts.  They  learn  how 
to  serve  Him  in  this  world  that  they  may  be  happy 
with  Him  forever  in  the  next.  This  is  the  science 
of  the  saints,  this  is  wisdom  greater  than  all  the 
wisdom  that  the  world  can  supply.  Let  parents, 
then,  look  to  it  that  they  deprive  not  their  children 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  347 

of  so  necessary  a  help  for  the  preservation  of  their 
Catholic  faith.  Nay,  let  them  do  more.  Let  them 
take  an  active  interest  in  these  schools,  follow  care- 
fully the  studies  of  their  little  ones,  encourage  them 
in  their  work,  and  permit  them  to  remain  at  school 
as  long1  as  possible.  It  is  during1  these  years  that 
religious  vocations  usually  manifest  themselves. 
Should  it  please  God  to  mark  one  of  your  children 
as  His  own,  to  serve  Him  either  at  the  altar  or  in 
the  cloister,  praise  and  bless  His  holy  name  and 
thank  Him  for  the  choice.  That  child  shall  be  your 
joy  here  and  your  crown  hereafter. 

One  means  of  religious  instruction  we  feel  we  can- 
not pass  over  without  mentioning-  in  this  place.  It 
is  that  of  good  reading1,  especially  of  Catholic  liter- 
ature. No  Catholic  family  should  be  without  at  least 
one  such  publication,  and  we  particularly  recommend 
our  own  diocesan  mag-azine,  The  Guidon. 

IN  THE  CHURCH.  Religious  instruction  does  not 
stop  with  the  school.  As  long1  as  we  live  we  can 
learn  of  God,  of  His  Church,  and  of  our  duties,  for 
such  is  God's  inexhaustible  g-oodness.  Every  Sunday 
we  come  to  the  church.  Here  is  read  to  us  Christ's 
Holy  Gospel,  here  its  lessons  are  expounded.  The 
sermon  need  not  be  eloquent  nor  elaborate.  Simple 
words  of  instruction,  of  advice,  or  of  edification, 
suffice,  so  long1  as  they  are  the  wholesome  doctrine  of 
Jesus  Christ.  "Our  preaching1  is  not  in  the  persuasive 
words  of  human  wisdom,  but  in  showing-  of  the 
Spirit  and  power  that  your  faith  mig-ht  not  stand  on 
the  wisdom  of  men  but  on  the  power  of  God."  (I. 
Co.  ii.,  4,  5.)  The  Lord  declared  :  "I  will  give  you 
pastors  according-  to  my  own  heart  and  they  shall 
feed  you  with  knowledge  and  doctrine."  (Jer.  iii.,  15.) 

Of  old,  when  God  sent  His  messengers,  the  people 


348  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

heeded  not  the  lowliness  of  their  person  nor  the  im- 
perfectness  of  their  speech.  They  regarded  only  Him 
in  whose  name  they  spoke,  and  they  did  penance  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes.  So,  too,  should  you.  When  the 
priest  delivers  his  message,  he  declares:  "Thussaith 
the  Lord  Jesus."  It  is  the  word  of  eternal  life. 

Besides  the  instruction  delivered  at  Holy  Mass,  there 
is  the  hour  for  catechism  on  Sunday  afternoon,  when 
the  children  are  gathered  at  the  foot  of  the  altar  to 
recite  these  lessons  in  Christian  doctrine  and  to  listen 
to  the  explanation  given  by  the  priest.  In  many  places, 
parents  are  accustomed  to  come  with  the  children, 
to  encourage  them  by  their  presence,  to  listen  to  their 
answers,  and  to  learn  not  a  little  themselves  of  the 
saving  truths  of  religion.  This  is  a  laudable  custom, 
and  we  hope  to  see  it  more  generally  followed  through- 
out the  diocese. 

Then  there  is  the  Sunday  evening  service.  This 
should  be  attended  with  more  fidelity.  It  is  true  this 
attendance  is  not  compulsory,  it  does  not  oblige  us 
under  pain  of  mortal  sin,  as  does  assistance  at  Holy 
Mass,  yet  it  is  an  opportunity  for  instruction  we 
should  not  let  pass  by.  Often  the  pastor  will  take 
this  occasion  to  address  some  words  to  his  people 
on  the  subject  of  the  feast,  the  life  of  their  patron 
saint,  the  duty  of  their  state,  or  the  like,  but,  even 
when  there  is  no  sermon  given,  you  are  in  the  presence 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  the  tabernacle,  and  He 
will  speak  to  you  Himself  with  the  voice  of  holy 
inspiration. 

To  you,  my  dear  father,  is  given  the  care  of  the 
flock  of  Jesus  Christ.  You  fill  the  office  of  the  Good 
Shepherd  in  their  regard.  It  is  yours  to  lead  the 
sheep  and  lambs  to  green  pastures,  beside  the  pure 
waters.  It  is  you  who  will  nourish  their  souls  with 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  349 

the  doctrine  of  the  word.  "Not  in  bread  alone  doth 
man  live,  but  in  every  word  that  proceedeth  from 
the  mouth  of  God  "  (Deut.  viii.,  3).  All  the  week  long 
your  people  are  engrossed  with  the  sordid  cares  of 
the  world.  At  least  once  a  week  cause  them  to  look 
up,  to  lift  up  their  heads  and  to  direct  their  thoughts 
to  Heaven.  Inflame  their  hearts  with  the  love  of  God, 
with  veneration  for  His  Holy  Mother  and  with  em- 
ulation of  the  saints. 

In  order  that  this  may  be  done  the  more  effectively, 
we  renew  here  the  command  that  has  already  been 
given : — 

First:  That  there  will  be  given  an  instruction  at 
every  Mass  on  Sunday. 

Second:  That  catechism  classes  will  be  held  for 
one  hour  on  Sunday  afternoon,  following  the  plan  laid 
down  in  a  previous  letter. 

And  that  no  departure  be  made  from  these  prac- 
tices without  authorization  from  us. 

May  the  blessing  of  Almisfhty  God,  the  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  descend  upon  you  and  your 
people  and  remain  with  you  forever. 

Given  at  Manchester  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Matthias,  Apostle, 
In  the  Year  of  Our  Lord  Nineteen  Hundred  and  Six. 


SERMON  AT  CATHEDRAL,  EASTER,  1905. 
My  Dearly  Beloved  Brethren  : 

The  angel  who  announced  the  birth  of  the  world's 
Redeemer  brought  to  us  "  tidings  of  great  joy,"  but 
the  angel  of  the  resurrection,  who  sat  by  the  tomb 
of  Jesus  on  that  first  Easter  morn,  gave  to  the  world  a 
message  of  far  greater  import.  That  Christ  the  Lord 
should  come  down  from  Heaven,  that  He  should  be 
born  among  men,  was,  indeed,  a  glorious,  joyful 


350  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

mystery.  Yet  had  He  not  risen  from  the  dead,  as 
He  himself  had  promised,  His  birth,  life,  and  death 
would  have  been  all  in  vain.  But  He  did  rise  on  that 
glorious  and  immortal  Easter,  and,  as  He  died  for  our 
sins,  so  did  He  rise  for  our  justification,  and  is  it 
any  wonder,  then,  that  the  Church  exults  and  repeats 
over  and  over  the  glad  refrain  :  "  This  is  the  day  the 
Lord  hath  made,  let  us  rejoice  and  be  glad  therein  "? 

How  far  removed  from  us  seem  the  sorrowful 
events  of  Good  Friday.  Yet  to  appreciate  the  joy  of 
this  day  we  must  not  forget  the  sorrow  of  that.  But 
three  days  since  and  we  stood  at  the  foot  of  the 
Cross.  We  saw  our  beloved  Saviour  hanging  there 
between  earth  and  heaven.  We  saw  Him  bow  His 
thorn-crowned  head  upon  His  breast.  We  saw  the 
shadow  of  death  creep  over  His  eyes,  we  heard  His 
agonizing  cry,  "My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  Thou 
forsaken  Me " ;  we  saw  the  soldier  with  the  cruel 
lance  pierce  His  Sacred  Heart  to  make  His  death 
doubly  sure.  When  evening  came  we  saw  Joseph  of 
Arimathea  and  Nicodemus  take  down  the  body  of  the 
Crucified,  wrap  It  hastily  in  spices,  for  the  Sabbath 
was  at  hand,  lay  It  away  in  a  new  sepulchre  under 
the  hill  and  seal  the  door  with  a  great  stone. 

The  enemies  of  Jesus  had  seemingly  triumphed. 
Yet  they  were  not  wholly  free  from  anxiety,  though 
they  had  compassed  His  death.  They  remembered 
He  had  said:  "After  three  days  I  will  rise  again." 
They  therefore  went  to  the  governor  and  demanded 
that  a  guard  be  set  around  the  tomb  until  the  third 
day,  lest  the  disciples  might  steal  the  body  and  start 
an  error  worse  than  the  first.  "You  have  a  guard," 
said  the  governor,  "go  guard  the  tomb  as  you  know," 
and  accordingly  the  enemies  of  Christ  set  a  watch  of 
soldiers  upon  the  place. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  351 

How  fared  it  with  the  friends  of  Christ?  The 
very  thing-  had  happened  which  had  been  foretold. 
The  shepherd  had  been  stricken  and  the  sheep  had 
been  scattered.  It  seems  strange  to  us  now,  but  it  is 
a  fact  that  the  disciples  never  seemed  to  have  realized 
the  mission  of  their  Master.  To  the  last  they  hoped 
He  would  redeem  Israel,  not  from  its  iniquities,  but 
from  the  rule  of  a  foreign  power.  When  He  died 
their  faith  in  Him  died  too.  It  looked  as  if  His 
cause  was  lost  forever.  Is  it  not  strange  that  the 
enemies  of  Jesus  remembered  better  than  His  follow- 
ers the  words  He  said?  Yet,  is  it  not  the  way  of 
the  world?  The  hatred  of  an  enemy  outlasts  the  love 
of  a  friend.  Six  times  at  least  our  Saviour  had  de- 
clared that  He  would  die  and  live  again.  Yet  the  care 
some  of  his  disciples  took  to  embalm  His  body  indi- 
cated that  His  resurrection  was  the  last  thing  they 
looked  for. 

"No  man  taketh  My  life  away  from  Me.  I  lay  it 
down  Myself  and  I  have  power  to  take  it  up  again," 
were  the  very  words  of  Jesus.  The  first  part  of  this 
saying  was  verified  on  Calvary,  the  second  part  was 
now  to  be  made  good.  And  it  was  made  good  on 
that  first  Easter  morning.  How?  The  Gospel  tells 
us.  The  earth  was  shaken,  the  guards  fled  in  fright, 
an  angel  of  God  rolled  the  stone  away  from  the  mouth 
of  the  sepulchre,  and  Jesus  rose  in  triumph  from  the 
dead.  The  sorrow  of  Good  Friday  was  swallowed  up 
in  the  glory  of  Easter. 

Early  on  the  third  morning  the  pious  women 
coming  to  complete  the  embalming  of  the  body  of 
Jesus,  found  the  tomb  open  and  the  body  gone.  Two 
angels  clad  in  white,  sat  by  the  slab,  on  which  the 
dead  body  of  the  Lord  had  rested,  who  said  to  the 
wondering  women: 

"Be  not  affrighted ;  you  seek  Jesus  of  Nazareth  who 
was  crucified;  He  is  risen,  He  is  not  here,  behold  the 


352  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

place  where  they  laid  Him.  But  go  tell  His  disciples 
and  Peter  that  He  goeth  before  you  into  Galilee,  there 
you  shall  see  Him  as  He  told  you." 

Presently  John  and  Peter  came.  They  saw  no 
vision;  the  death  clothes  stained  with  blood  was  all 
they  found  of  Jesus  there.  Later  Magdalen  came,  and 
by  the  empty  tomb  wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 
A  voice  spoke  to  her.  Through  her  blinding  tears  she 
thought  she  saw  the  gardener  or  caretaker  of  the  place 
and  said  to  him  : 

"Sir,  if  you  have  taken  Him  hence,  tell  me  and  I  will 
take  Him  away." 

Then  the  vision  spoke  this  one  word :  "  Mary."  Now 
she  knew.  It  was  the  same  voice  that  called  her  child, 
that  forgave  her  sins,  that  summoned  her  brother 
Lazarus  from  the  tomb.  It  was  Jesus  and  none  other, 
and  prostrate  at  His  feet  she  fell  and  cried,  "Rabboni, 
O  my  Master."  When  she  would  embrace  His  sacred 
feet,  the  Lord  forbade  her,  saying:  "Do  not  touch  Me, 
but  go  to  My  brethren  and  tell  them  what  I  say  to 
you." 

That  same  evening  Christ  appeared  to  two  disciples 
on  the  road  to  Emmaus.  They  were  heavy  with  grief 
at  the  events  that  had  transpired.  He  explained  to 
them  how  Christ  must  suffer  and  die  and  rise  again  to 
enter  into  His  glory.  Their  eyes  were  held  and  they 
knew  not  it  was  the  Lord  until  He  revealed  Himself  to 
them  in  the  breaking  of  the  bread.  Returning  to  Jeru- 
salem the  disciples  told  what  they  had  seen  to  the 
apostles  assembled  in  an  upper  chamber ;  then  came 
Jesus  Himself  and  stood  in  the  midst  of  them.  Breath- 
ing on  them  He  said,  "  Peace  be  to  you." 

For  forty  days  after  our  Saviour  appeared  to  His 
apostles  and  disciples  at  different  times  and  places, 
and  on  one  occasion  manifested  Himself  to  120  persons 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  353 

assembled  tog-ether.  He  walked  with  them,  talked 
with  them,  ate  with  them  to  convince  them  that  it  was 
really  He.  He  showed  them  the  imprint  of  the  nails  in 
His  hands  and  showed  them  the  wounds  that  the  spear 
had  made  in  His  side.  And  at  length  in  the  sight  of 
them  all  He  was  taken  up  into  heaven. 

My  dearly  beloved  brethren,  the  lessons  of  this 
blessed  mystery  are  many.  Let  us  learn  a  few. 

First  let  me  call  your  attention  to  Magdalen's  priv- 
ilege. It  was  not  to  Peter,  the  head  of  His  church ; 
it  was  not  to  John,  His  beloved  disciple,  that  Jesus 
first  revealed  Himself;  it  was  to  Magdalen,  the  sinner, 
but  the  repentant  sinner.  Was  it  not  thus  the  purpose 
of  our  merciful  Lord  to  show  us  sinners  that  as  He 
died  for  our  sins  so  He  rose  for  our  justification? 

Again,  on  the  very  first  occasion  of  His  coming  to 
the  apostles  after  His  resurrection  He  breathed  on 
them  and  said  :  "  Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost.  Whose 
sins  you  shall  forgive  they  are  forgiven  them,  and  whose 
sins  ye  shall  retain  they  shall  be  retained,"  instituting 
thus  the  sacrament  of  penance,  which  may  well  be 
called  the  sacrament  of  the  resurrection.  By  this  sac- 
rament those  who  lie  in  spiritual  death  are  raised  up 
to  life,  to  the  spiritual  life,  and  are  given  the  freedom 
of  the  sons  of  God. 

But  the  greatest  lesson  of  the  mystery  of  Easter  is 
this:  The  resurrection  proves  Jesus  Christ  to  be  the 
Son  of  God,  and  it  proves  His  religion  to  be  divine.  It 
was  the  test  proposed  by  Jesus  Christ  Himself.  When 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  asked  of  Him  a  sign  from 
heaven,  He  said:  "An  evil  and  adulterous  generation 
seeketh  a  sign  and  a  sign  shall  not  be  given  it  but  the 
sign  of  Jonah,  the  prophet.  For  as  Jonah  was  in  the 
whale's  belly  three  days  and  three  nights,  so  shall  the 
Son  of  Man  be  in  the  heart  of  the  earth  three  days  and 


354  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

three  nights."  Again  challenged  by  the  Jews  to  prove 
His  divine  authority,  Jesus  said  to  them:  "Destroy 
this  temple  and  after  three  days  I  shall  rebuild  it." 
He,  however,  spoke  of  the  temple  of  His  body.  This, 
then,  was  the  test.  God  and  God  alone  is  the  master 
of  life  and  death.  The  founders  of  false  religions  have 
been  men  of  wisdom,  men  of  power,  men  of  virtue 
sometimes;  they  have  done  wonders  of  their  kind,  but 
not  one  of  them  has  ever  proved  the  divinity  of  his 
mission  as  has  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

About  the  time  of  the  French  revolution  a  certain 
religious  enthusiast  submitted  to  Talleyrand  a  project 
of  founding  a  new  religion.  That  astute  statesman 
listened  with  apparent  interest  to  the  plan  and  said : 
"There  is  but  one  thing  necessary  for  the  success  of 
your  scheme.  Do  that  and  your  religion  will  be  adopt- 
ed ;  your  name  will  go  down  to  posterity  with  glory." 

"What  is  it?"  eagerly  inquired  the  other. 

"You  must  first  be  crucified  and  then  rise  on  the 
third  day." 

The  reply  extinguished  the  zeal  of  the  would-be 
founder  of  a  new  religion.  That  is  the  test,  and  God 
alone  can  furnish  it. 

The  enemies  of  our  faith  in  all  ages  have  recognized 
the  force  of  this  proof  and  have  tried  to  combat  it 
by  denying  that  Christ  has  risen.  They  declared  that 
the  apostles  stole  the  body  of  their  Master,  or  that  they 
were  deceived  and  imagined  that  they  saw  Him.  The 
refuge  is  vain.  The  testimony  of  the  apostles  is  reli- 
able in  every  respect.  They  bore  witness  to  what 
they  themselves  saw;  they  were  many;  there  was  no 
collusion;  they  had  nothing  to  gain  by  practicing  de- 
ception, but  had  everything  to  lose ;  they  were  not 
fanatics  with  overwrought  imaginations,  but  plain, 
blunt  men,  slow  to  believe,  cautious  and  calculating, 
rude  of  intellect  perhaps,  but  possessed  of  strong 
common  sense. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  355 

If  civilized  nations  accept  the  verdict  of  twelve  jury- 
men as  the  best  mode  of  deciding-  the  gravest  ques- 
tions, how  can  we  refuse  the  testimony  of  the  apos- 
tolic witnesses  who  saw  with  their  eyes  and  heard 
with  their  ears  and  touched  with  their  hands  the 
risen  Lord ;  who  devoted  their  lives  to  promulgate 
this  marvel ;  who  preached  it  not  in  obscure  corners 
but  in  Jerusalem  within  forty  days  after  the  event 
had  occurred ;  who  converted  thousands  to  that  be- 
lief;  who  suffered  stripes  and  imprisonment  rather 
than  deny  it,  and  finally  sealed  their  testimony  with 
their  blood?  Surely  if  ever  witnesses  were  worthy 
of  belief  it  was  they. 

Christ,  then,  is  risen  and  proven  by  this  very  fact 
that  He  is  truly  and  really  God.  His  religion,  then, 
is  divine,  and  it  is  your  blessed  privileg-e  and  my 
blessed  privilege  to  be  partakers  of  it.  In  vain  does 
the  unbeliever  attack  our  faith  ;  the  nations  rail,  the 
Jews  cry  scandal,  the  Gentiles  call  it  folly.  Jesus 
Christ  risen  from  the  dead  is  an  answer  to  it  all. 
Every  objection  is  broken  on  the  stone  of  His  holy 
sepulchre.  It  is  just  and  right,  then,  that  we  should 
hail  this  day  with  joy  and  thanksgiving1,  the  most 
glorious  day  of  all  God  given. 

As  the  resurrection  of  Christ  is  the  foundation  of 
our  faith,  so  also  is  it  the  ground-work  of  our  eternal 
hope.  As  Christ  rose  from  the  dead  so  shall  we  one 
day  rise  again.  He  is  "  the  first  fruits  of  them  that 
sleep."  "For  by  a  man  came  death  and  by  a  man 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead  ;  and  as  in  Adam  all  die, 
so  also  in  Christ  all  shall  be  made  alive." 

It  is  true  there  are  two  kinds  of  resurrection,  one 
to  misery  and  suffering-  without  end  and  one  to  bliss 
eternal.  It  is  the  sweet  consciousness  of  living  and 
dying  in  Jesus'  favor  that  gives  us  the  hope  that 


356  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

this  last  shall  be  ours.  Need  I  tell  you  what  this 
hope  means?  See  the  two  men  who  died  by  Jesus' 
side  on  Calvary.  One  with  curses  and  blasphemy 
upon  his  lips,  the  hatred  of  hell  within  his  heart  and 
the  blackness  of  despair  within  his  soul.  The  other 
with  resignation  upon  his  lips  and  charity  within  his 
soul.  What  was  the  cause  of  the  difference?  It  was 
because  of  hope.  The  dying1  Jesus  said  to  the  one 
upon  his  right,  "This  day  thou  shalt  be  with  Me  in 
Paradise."  

THE  PUBLIC  LIBRARY  IN  RELATION  TO  THE  CHURCH. 

The  public  library  may  aid  in  two  ways  the  work 
that  the  Church  is  striving1  to  do,  namely,  by  indirect 
means  and  by  direct  means. 

The  library  helps  the  Church  indirectly  when  it 
furnishes  the  people  with  good  wholesome  reading-. 
Such  reading  enlightens  the  people's  minds  with  sal- 
utary knowledge,  cultivates  their  affections  for  the 
good,  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  finally  bears  fruit 
in  their  lives  by  bringing  them  nearer  to  what  God 
wishes  them  to  be.  That  this  is  the  aim  of  our 
libraries,  1  do  not  doubt;  that  they  accomplish  much 
in  this  direction,  I  do  not  question.  All  the  librarians 
whom  I  know  are  earnest,  Christian  men  and  women, 
striving  to  make  the  most  of  the  means  at  hand. 
The  policies  of  our  public  libraries  are  generally 
just  and  liberal.  If,  then,  I  point  out  a  few  ways 
in  which  they  fail  of  achieving  all  the  good  that 
they  might  do,  it  is  not  for  the  sake  of  fault  finding — 
a  task  as  easy  as  it  is  ungrateful  —  but  rather  in 
the  hope  that,  these  being  remedied,  our  libraries 
may  become  agencies  of  still  greater  good. 

It  should  first  of  all  be  borne  in  mind  that  mere 
reading  is  not  profitable  for  men,  women,  or  children. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  357 

Quite  the  contrary.  Indiscriminate  reading-,  when  it 
has  no  decidedly  evil  effects,  at  least  stores  the  mind 
with  rubbish,  dissipates  the  spirit,  and  makes  con- 
centration of  thought  impossible.  One  good  book,  well 
digested  is  worth  a  hundred  skimmed  through.  "Read- 
ding"  says  Bacon,  "maketh  a  full  man,"  but  neither 
he  nor  anyone  else  affirms  that  it  makes  a  good  man, 
unless  the  matter  itself  is  good. 

The  first  care,  then,  of  the  librarian,  should  be  to 
exclude  from  the  library  all  positively  bad  and  per- 
nicious books.  His  next  care  should  be  to  exercise 
discretion  in  the  distribution  of  doubtful  books,  for 
these  cannot  be  wholly  excluded  from  any  general 
collection.  In  this  class  I  would  include  works  of  in- 
fidelity, of  socialism,  of  skepticism.  Such  works,  until 
one  is  well  grounded  in  his  own  Christian  faith,  should 
never  be  in  his  possession,  for  "the  weak  and  unstable 
wrest  with  them  to  their  own  destruction."  Ruskin  well 
says  that  "knowledge  is  good  and  light  is  good,  but 
man  perishes  in  seeking  knowledge  as  the  moth  perishes 
in  seeking  light."  And  a  higher  authority  has  said, 
"Be  not  more  wise  than  it  behooveth  to  be  wise,  but 
be  wise  unto  sobriety." 

Another  class  of  books  still  more  common  than  these 
are  even  more  harmful  because  their  baneful  tendency 
so  often  escapes  notice.  These  are  the  latter-day 
novels  which  treat  of  social  problems  like  marriage 
or  divorce;  which  deal  with  the  lowest  of  human  passions 
and  misname  it  love;  which  profess  to  portray  so- 
called  high  life.  There  was  a  time  when  novels  like 
these  were  under  the  ban  of  good  breeding  and  were 
excluded  from  the  Christian  home,  but  unfortunately 
our  ideas  of  propriety  have  been  so  greatly  expanded 
and  our  moral  sensibilities  have  become  so  dulled 
that  almost  everything  finds  its  way  to  our  reading 


358  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

table.  We  have  ceased  to  be  shocked  at  the  vile  por- 
trayals of  what  these  novels  call  life.  Now,  every 
librarian  knows  that  two-thirds  of  the  reading1  passed 
over  his  desk  is  fiction.  He  knows,  too,  that  his  pa- 
trons are  composed  in  great  part  of  the  young  people 
of  our  cities  and  towns.  What  effect  can  such  read- 
ing have  upon  youthful  minds?  It  can  have  but  one 
effect,  and  that  one  must  be  bad.  Such  stories  fur- 
nish our  future  men  and  women  with  false  and  foolish 
ideals,  fill  their  minds  with  distrust  in  virtue  and 
disregard  for  what  they  term  our  old-fashioned  stand- 
ards of  morality.  Their  emotional  natures  are  stimu- 
lated at  the  expense  of  both  their  intellectual  and 
moral  natures,  and  the  result  is  disastrous  to  all 
three.  As  a  moral  agent  in  the  community,  the  public 
library  should  help  to  ward  off  the  harm  that  comes 
from  works  of  this  class.  Librarians  should  be  re- 
quired to  know  the  character  of  the  books  upon  their 
shelves,  and  should  then  be  given  the  right  to  refuse 
to  applicants  under  eighteen  years  of  age  books  which, 
even  though  not  classed  as  immoral,  are  yet  dangerous 
to  the  faith  or  the  morals  of  growing  boys  and  girls. 
By  direct  means,  the  library  may  help  the  Church 
by  supplying  such  standard  works  on  religion  as  will 
prove  helpful  to  the  seeker  after  truth,  whatever 
denomination  he  may  profess.  Here  I  have  a  com- 
plaint to  make  of  our  New  Hampshire  libraries,  or  at 
least  of  several  of  them  with  which  I  am  acquainted. 
When  a  treatise  or  publication  of  a  religious  nature  is 
called  for,  the  librarian  replies  that  the  library  does 
not  buy  such  books,  adding,  perhaps,  that  it  will 
receive  them  if  they  be  donated.  This  is  supposed  to 
be  an  evidence  of  the  broad,  non-sectarian  policy  of 
the  trustees.  Is  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  an  indication 
of  the  utmost  narrowness  of  spirit,  which,  while  ad- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  359 

mitting  trifling-,  stupid,  indecent,  irreligious  books, 
excludes  those  treating  of  God,  His  revelation,  His 
Church,  His  dealings  with  man  !  It  is  no  excuse  to  say 
that  these  books  will  be  received  if  donated.  If  they 
are  worth  a  place  on  the  library  shelf  they  are  worth 
buying.  It  is  no  excuse  either  to  say  that  if  the 
library  bought  one  of  this  class  it  would  have  to  buy 
all.  Not  so.  There  is  no  more  obligation  to  buy  all 
so-called  religious  publications  than  there  is  to  buy  all 
kinds  of  secular  works.  Let  the  librarian  use  his 
common  sense  in  selecting  standard  works  of  recog- 
nized authorities,  and  nobody  will  have  any  fault  to 
find. 

One  other  suggestion  I  would  offer.  So  far  as  I 
know  the  plan  has  not  been  tried,  but  I  see  no  reason 
why  it  is  not  feasible  and  in  strict  keeping  with  the 
end  and  aim  of  the  library.  In  some  towns  the  library 
is  already  seconding  the  work  of  the  day  schools  by 
supplying  to  them  directly  such  books'  for  reading  or 
reference  as  the  teachers  desire  for  themselves  and 
their  pupils.  Why  should  it  not  do  the  same  for  the 
Sunday  schools  ?  Many  churches  cannot  afford  to 
support  libraries,  though  all  feel  the  need  of  them. 
Church  members  are  citizens ;  they  support  the 
library,  they  have  a  right  to  such  books  as  they  find 
needful.  Why  should  not  the  library  furnish  these? 
Again  the  cry  may  be  raised,  "No  sectarianism!"  But 
it  is  not  a  question  of  sect,  it  is  a  question  of  how  to  do 
the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest  number.  By  supply- 
ing holy  books,  the  library  would  aid  in  the  work  of 
making  virtuous  citizens,  and  the  country  would  reap 
the  benefit  a  hundred-fold. 

The  public  library  is  already  a  power.  These  sug- 
gestions offer,  it  seems  to  me,  ways  easy  of  attainment 
by  which  it  may  render  more  direct  and  effective  aid 
to  the  Church,  and  be,  consequently,  a  power  for 
greater  good. 


360  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

SICKNESS  AND  DEATH. 

Full  of  the  joy  of  life,  happy  under  the  strain  of 
labor,  the  lover  of  little  children,  with  a  nature  of  sim- 
plicity and  openness  like  unto  theirs,  Bishop  Delany's 
life  was  cut  off  while  it  was  but  beginning.  Not  two 
years  a  bishop,  and  only  in  the  forty-second  year  of  his 
life,  in  the  flower  of  his  manhood,  he  was  suddenly 
stricken,  and,  after  a  few  days'  illness,  passed  away. 

He  was  indeed  a  young  man  to  have  upon  his  shoul- 
ders the  burden  of  a  bishopric,  and  this  fact  made  him  a 
conspicuous  figure  among  the  American  prelates,  and 
had  centered  upon  him  widespread  interest  and  univer- 
sal affection. 

The  news  of  Bishop  Delany's  sudden  and  serious  ill- 
ness came  as  a  great  shock  to  the  thousands  of  Catho- 
lics in  Manchester  who  were  happy  to  claim  him  as 
their  spiritual  leader,  aad  were  proud  to  point  him  out 
as  the  youngest  bishop  in  the  United  States. 

While  it  was  known  to  a  number  of  his  intimate 
friends  that  he  had  not  been  feeling  well  for  the  last 
week,  his  real  condition  was  not  known  to  himself  nor 
to  his  friends.  The  numerous  duties  of  his  office 
necessitated  great  mental  and  physical  exertion.  How- 
ever, he  did  not  give  any  indication  of  being  in  ill-health 
until  the  Friday  previous,  when  he  was  attacked  by 
severe  pains  in  the  abdomen.  He  was  inclined  to  be- 
lieve that  it  was  the  result  of  riding  so  much  on  the 
trains,  as  the  duty  of  making  his  usual  visitations  to  the 
different  parishes  of  the  State  and  the  administering  of 
confirmation  had  necessitated  much  travel. 

On  Wednesday  he  attended  the  exercises  of  the 
Alumni  Association  at  St.  Anselm's  College  in  Man- 
chester, and  his  address  was  the  feature  of  the  occasion. 
On  Friday  Bishop  Delany  visited  the  home  of  his  mother 
in  Lowell,  Mass.,  as  had  been  his  weekly  custom  for 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  361 

years.  Shortly  after  reaching  there  he  was  attacked 
by  severe  pains,  and  remedies  were  applied  that  brought 
him  relief,  which  made  him  believe  the  trouble  to  be 
some  ordinary  ailment  that  would  pass  entirely  away  in 
a  short  time. 

On  Saturday  morning  he  was  much  improved  and 
returned  to  Manchester.  As  soon  as  he  reached  the 
episcopal  residence  he  went  directly  to  his  library  and 
for  several  hours  attended  to  his  correspondence  and 
the  duties  of  his  office.  Later  in  the  day,  after  urgent 
persuasion  on  the  part  of  his  sister,  he  consented  to 
have  a  local  physician  called.  It  was  thought  that  the 
attack  was  not  at  all  serious,  that  it  was  due  to  fatigue 
and  over  exertion,  and  that  rest  would  bring  the 
desired  relief. 

Members  of  the  clergy  at  the  house  had  become 
acquainted  with  the  fact  that  their  Bishop  was  not 
well.  Such  a  thing  was  so  unusual,  that  though  as- 
sured that  there  was  no  cause  for  anxiety,  all  of  the 
episcopal  household  became  concerned  and  even  alarmed. 
As  the  following  day  was  Pentecost  Sunday,  one 
of  the  great  feast  days  of  the  Church,  Bishop  Delany 
was  to  say  pontifical  Mass  in  his  Cathedral  and  to  give 
the  papal  benediction.  Confirmation  was  to  be  ad- 
ministered in  the  afternoon  to  a  large  number  of 
children,  and  the  Shepherd  of  souls  was  eager  to 
strengthen  and  help  the  little  ones  of  his  fold.  His 
solicitous  priests  argued  with  him  not  to  officiate  at  the 
exercises  that  had  been  announced,  since  they  were  of 
such  a  lengthy  and  laborious  nature,  but  he  insisted 
on  performing  them  rather  than  disappoint  his  people, 
and  above  all  his  children,  the  idols  of  his  tender  heart. 
When  the  morning  services  were  completed  the  Bishop 
took  dinner,  and  then  went  to  his  room  where  he  rested 
until  three  o'clock.  He  then  returned  to  the  Cathedral 


362  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

and  confirmed  over  two  hundred  children.  He  spoke 
to  them  at  length,  as  he  always  did  on  such  occasions, 
on  the  nature  and  importance  of  the  sacrament  about 
to  be  received.  He  also  dwelt  on  the  evil  and  sin  of 
the  present  age  in  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquor,  and 
he  besought  his  hearers  to  abstain  from  it  all  during 
their  lives.  Then  he  gave  the  children  the  pledge  to 
insure  their  fidelity  until  they  reached  the  age  of 
twenty-one.  After  all  was  over  he  enjoyed  a  drive 
through  the  city,  saying  he  wanted  to  convince  every- 
one he  was  as  well  as  ever. 

Two  of  his  sisters  were  his  guests  over  Sunday,  and 
he  chatted  lengthily  with  them  while  he  related  his 
plans  for  the  summer.  It  was  his  intention  to  go  alone 
through  the  entire  State  of  New  Hampshire  in  order 
that  he  might  come  into  contact  with  all  his  people  and 
that  he  might  bring  back  to  the  faith  those  among  them 
who  had  fallen  away.  He  longed  to  reach  those  who 
needed  assistance  in  any  way,  and  above  all  to  help  those 
"sitting  in  darkness  and  in  the  shadow  of  death." 
What  that  visit  might  have  brought  to  his  wandering 
sheep,  what  his  kind  ministrations  would  have  been  to 
their  hungry  souls  it  is  not  difficult  for  those  to  believe 
who  are  acquainted  with  some  of  the  conditions  in 
various  parts  of  the  State.  But  God  had  other  plans  in 
his  regard,  and  who  knows  but  the  young  prelate's 
hopes  and  desires  were,  or  will  be,  fulfilled  in  the  sacri- 
fice he  made  of  all  that  his  heart  held  dear  ! 

Monday  afternoon  at  five  o'clock  he  went  to  St. 
Patrick's  orphanage,  where  he  administered  the  Sacra- 
ment of  Confirmation  to  a  class  of  children.  One  of 
the  Sisters  in  charge  writes  of  that  event  as  follows: 
"After  the  services  were  over  the  Bishop  spoke  beau- 
tifully to  the  children.  He  then  partook  of  the  sup- 
per prepared  for  him,  and  he  greatly  relished  it;  for 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  363 

he  remarked  that  it  was  good  to  get  back  his  appe- 
tite after  the  attack  he  had  had  of  indigestion.  He 
was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  as  genial  and  happy  as 
ever,  and  when  his  supper  was  finished  he  asked  to 
have  the  little  girls  come  out  to  the  garden  to  sing 
for  him.  He  thought  no  children  sang  like  the  orphans, 
and  his  own  clear  voice  often  helped  them  in  the 
rendition  of  their  little  songs  and  hymns.  He  ob- 
served their  pretty  white  dresses,  their  curls  and 
even  their  stockings.  Nothing  was  too  small  or  in- 
significant for  his  notice  when  it  concerned  the 
orphans,  his  special  pets,  as  he  loved  to  call  them. 
Being  told  of  a  picnic  they  were  to  have  the  following 
day  he  gave  them  a  generous  sum  of  money  for  good 
things.  After  he  had  blessed  them,  and  said  good 
night  he  departed,  leaving  their  happy  hearts  filled 
with  the  sweetest  memories  of  their  kind  father  and 
true  friend.  Little  did  they  dream  that  this  was 
the  last  time  they  would  meet  on  earth!  This  ad- 
ministration of  the  sacrament  of  confirmation  was 
the  last  public  function  Bishop  Delany  performed. 
God  willed  that  should  it  be  given  to  the  orphans  whom 
he  loved  so  tenderly,  with  whom  he  spent  so  much 
of  his  precious  time,  and  for  whom  he  had  planned 
so  nobly  and  generously  in  the  years  to  come. 

That  night  the  pains  returned,  and  the  doctor  was 
again  summoned.  Some  little  relief  was  obtained, 
and  the  Bishop  was  restricted  to  his  own  room.  He 
suffered  a  great  deal  on  Tuesday,  but  felt  convinced 
that  the  pains  would  subside  as  they  did  before. 
He  was  so  afraid  of  giving  trouble  to  those  in  at- 
tendance upon  him  that  he  tried  hard  to  conceal 
what  he  was  patiently  enduring.  Wednesday  his 
sufferings  increased  and  the  local  physicians  becom- 
ing alarmed  decided  to  consult  Dr.  Richardson,  the 


364  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

well-known  surgeon  of  Boston.  He  was  called  by 
telephone  and  agreed  to  come  early  the  next  day  to 
Manchester. 

The  condition  of  the  patient  throughout  the  night 
led  the  members  of  his  family  to  believe  that  he  was 
suffering  from  appendicitis,  though  this  was  not 
definitely  known  until  the  arrival  of  Dr.  Richardson 
on  Thursday  morning. 

Bishop  Delany  himself  was  of  the  opinion  that  an 
operation  would  be  necessary.  Notwithstanding  the 
severe  pains  from  which  he  suffered,  he  was  in  high 
spirits,  much  more  so  than  the  members  of  his 
family  and  his  clergy. 

Early  in  the  morning  he  requested  that  his  vener- 
able confessor  be  sent  for,  and  that  the  Last  Sacra- 
ments be  administered  to  him.  Though  he  was  con- 
tinually assured  by  those  around  him  that  there  was 
no  danger  of  death,  yet  he  implored  them  to  grant 
his  request.  "Extreme  Unction  will  relieve  me,  and  I 
am  anxious  to  receive  it,"  was  all  he  would  say  when 
told  by  all  that  he  would  soon  be  well.  His  revered 
confessor  quickly  arrived,  gave  the  Last  Sacrament 
as  desired,  and  the  suffering  Bishop  seemed  to  re- 
gain strength  and  courage  to  hear  with  perfect 
resignation  the  opinion  of  the  specialist. 

"An  operation  at  once  is  the  only  chance  of  life" 
the  surgeon  said  after  a  hasty  examination  of  the 
patient.  "I  am  perfectly  willing  to  undergo  it"  the 
Bishop  replied,  then  turning  to  his  mother  and  sisters 
he  said,  "Do  not  feel  badly.  I  am  not  afraid  of  the 
operation.  With  my  health  and  strength  I  can  go 
through  it  all  right,  but  if  God  wishes  to  call  me  I 
am  perfectly  willing  to  go." 

He  was  immediately  taken  to  the  Sacred  Heart 
hospital,  an  institution  connected  with  the  cathedral, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  365 

but  a  block  away.  Upon  his  arrival  there  every  one 
was  visibly  affected,  for  even  in  the  operating-  room 
he  was  happy  and  cheerful,  and  tried  by  every  means 
to  console  the  anxious  ones  around  him.  "Don't  be 
worried  about  me.  Whatever  God  wills  is  best  in 
my  regard"  he  said  as  he  was  placed  on  the  operat- 
ing- table. 

The  operation  took  place  about  noon  in  the  pres- 
ence of  many  of  the  priests,  local  physicians,  and 
nurses.  It  revealed  an  alarming-  condition  of  the  ap- 
pendix and  showed  that  peritonitis  had  already  set 
in. 

The  news  of  Bishop  Delany's  illness  spread  like 
fire  through  the  city,  and  all  during  the  operation 
numbers  of  people  gathered  in  the  waiting  rooms  of 
the  hospital,  and  even  outside  its  doors,  eager  to 
ascertain  how  the  patient  was  progressing. 

One  thing-  was  in  the  Bishop's  favor,  notwithstand- 
ing- his  serious  condition,  and  that  was  his  youth  and 
vigor.  He  was  only  forty-one  years  of  ag-e,  a  man 
who  had  taken  the  best  care  of  himself  from  his 
boyhood,  who  had,  up  to  the  day  he  had  been  strick- 
en, enjoyed  perfect  health.  On  these  assurances,  the 
hopes  of  all  were  grounded,  tog-ether  with  the  feeling 
that  God  had  many  things  for  him  to  do  during  his 
episcopal  career  that  had  just  opened  with  such 
splendid  promise. 

Within  an  hour  after  the  operation  the  Bishop  re- 
covered consciousness.  "I  am  glad  it  is  over,  do  not 
worry  about  me,  for  I  shall  be  all  rig-ht  now,"  he 
remarked  to  those  around  him.  One  of  the  priests 
congratulated  him  on  bis  courage  and  his  cheerfulness 
even  in  pain.  He  replied,  "  Do  not  fear  for  me,  my 
courage  is  all  right."  His  mind  was  keen  and  alert, 
and  he  eagerly  inquired  what  was  done  at  the  operation. 


366  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

He  questioned  if  gangrene  had  set  in,  if  any  of  the 
intestines  had  been  removed,  and  in  just  what  con- 
dition the  appendix  had  been  found.  Upon  receiving- 
evasive  answers  he  said,  "You  need  not  fear  to  tell 
me.  Sister.  It  won't  trouble  me.  I  am  not  afraid  to 
hear  the  worst.  Long  ago  I  made  up  my  mind  to  take 
what  God  sends."  He  pushed  his  inquiries  until  be 
was  told  that  the  appendix  had  been  removed,  and 
that  a  great  deal  of  inflammation  had  been  found. 

That  nothing  should  be  left  undone  for  the  safety 
and  comfort  of  the  patient  Dr.  Garland,  the  assistant 
surgeon,  was  recalled  from  Boston  Friday  morning  and 
given  full  charge  of  the  case.  All  that  day  the  Bishop 
tossed  without  ceasing.  He  was  consumed  with  fever, 
and  had  to  be  bathed  constantly.  About  three  o'clock 
he  had  a  sinking  spell.  His  chancellor  and  secretary 
was  notified  and  found  the  condition  so  serious  when 
he  arrived  that  he  summoned  the  heads  of  the  religious 
houses  and  the  priests  of  the  city.  In  an  hour,  how- 
ever, the  Bishop  rallied  and  seemed  more  comfortable 
than  before.  Dr.  Richardson  came  towards  evening. 
He  made  no  attempt  to  minimize  the  gravity  of  the 
situation.  "The  Bishop  is  a  very  sick  man,  "he  said, 
"but  we  have  not  abandoned  hope." 

The  night  was  an  anxious  one.  Two  nurses — one 
a  Sister  of  Mercy — and  two  doctors  were  in  constant 
attendance.  That  the  Bishop  realized  his  danger  was 
clear.  Once,  when  the  others  were  momentarily  ab- 
sent, he  said  to  the  Sister:  "What  do  you  think  of 
my  chances  for  recovery?"  "The  doctor  hopes  you 
will  be  better,"  she  replied.  He  tried  to  read  her 
face.  "I  am  not  so  much  attached  to  earth  that  I 
could  not  give  everything  up.  I  gave  those  things  up 
long  ago.  God's  holy  will  be  done  !"  As  he  looked 
into  his  Mother's  tear-dimmed  eyes  he  said:  "Do  not 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  367 

worry,  Mother  dear,  do  not  cry,  for  I  will  be  all 
right;'1  then  turning  to  his  sister  he  continued: 
"  Look  out  for  Mother,  take  her  away  for  a  little 
while,  and  do  not  let  her  worry." 

He  got  no  sleep  until  between  three  and  four 
o'clock,  when  he  dozed  for  a  short  time.  Though 
he  tried  to  conceal  his  sufferings,  he  many  times 
asked  for  prayers,  particularly  that  he  might  have 
patience  to  endure.  His  thoughtfulness  for  others 
was  remarkable.  Never  once  did  he  fail  to  say 
"  Thank  you  "  for  the  least  attention,  and  he  spoke 
repeatedly  of  the  kindness  shown  him  by  everyone, 
particularly  by  the  Sisters  of  Mercy.  Saturday  morn- 
ing brought  no  improvement,  but  he  slept,  and  after 
each  nap  seemed  a  little  stronger.  He  asked  to 
receive  Holy  Communion,  and  when  told  that  he 
would  not  be  able  to  retain  the  Sacred  Species,  he 
questioned  if  there  was  no  way  by  which  his  stomach 
might  be  strengthened.  He  was  told  that  there  was 
only  one  thing  that  could  be  done,  and  that  was  to 
subject  him  to  the  painful  process  of  washing  out 
the  stomach.  He  made  answer:  "I  will  suffer  any- 
thing to  receive  my  Lord,"  and  he  went  through  the 
ordeal  with  the  same  courage  and  fortitude  he  had 
manifested  from  the  beginning  of  his  illness.  In  the 
afternoon  Doctor  Richardson  found  him  so  bright  and 
cheerful  that  the  most  encouraging  bulletin  of  the 
week  was  given  out.  The  priests  and  people  were 
delighted  at  the  good  news,  and  the  city  papers 
published  the  welcome  word  that  the  patient's  recov- 
ery was  almost  assured.  The  Bishop  was  like  his 
old  self.  He  talked  with  the  members  of  his  family, 
and  bade  his  mother  go  out  and  enjoy  herself  for 
awhile,  for  she  had  never  left  him  from  the  moment 
he  was  stricken.  Everyone  thought  that  the  thous- 


368  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

ands  of  prayers  that  had  been,  and  were  still  being*, 
offered  to  the  Most  High  for  the  Bishop's  restora- 
tion, had  been  answered,  and  that  God  would  give 
him  back  in  health  and  strength  to  his  devoted  priests 
and  people.  As  evening  came  on  the  nurses  and 
Sisters  watched  closely  for  the  change  they  knew 
would  occur  before  dawn  of  the  next  day.  The 
Bishop's  patience  was  heroic  even  in  pain  that  racked 
and  agonized  him.  When  his  sister  asked  him  if  he 
were  suffering  greatly  he  replied  :  "  As  I  look  on  that 
crucifix  hanging  on  the  wall  and  think  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  our  dear  Saviour,  I  feel  myself  crucified  with 
Him.  Oh,  how  I  pray  that  He  will  look  upon  me, 
and  help  me  to  bear  it  all  patiently  1  This  is  the  first 
time  in  my  life  God  has  sent  me  suffering,  and  I 
want  to  bear  it  patiently.  How  many  people  in  the 
world  have  had  years  of  pain  to  endure,  and  I  have 
been  always  well,  and  so  I  must  not,  I  will  not  com- 
plain." All  who  came  near  him  he  besought  to  pray 
that  he  might  have  patience  to  accept  what  God 
wished  to  send. 

The  change  was  noticed  at  about  four  o'clock  Sun- 
day morning  when  the  Bishop's  heart  began  to  weaken, 
his  pulse  to  quicken,  and  the  pain  became  almost  un- 
bearable. Still  he  made  no  complaint.  When  asked 
about  the  pain  by  those  in  attendance  he  always 
answered,  "It  is  passing."  Violent  vomiting  set  in 
soon  after  daybreak,  and  he  became  so  weak  that  death 
seemed  imminent.  Several  of  the  priests  were  sent  for. 
The  Bishop  did  not  realize  that  a  change  for  the  worse 
had  set  in.  Noticing  anxiety  and  alarm  on  the  faces  of 
the  members  of  his  family,  he  said,  "What  mean  these 
serious  faces?  If  I  am  going  to  die  I  want  to  know 
it.  I  must  be  told.  I  have  done  all  that  I  could,  and 
if  I  am  to  die  I  want  time  to  be  alone  with  God 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  369 

and  to  ask  forgiveness  for  my  sins.  Every  moment 
since  this  operation  has  been  agony,  but  I  have  offered 
it  to  Him,  and  I  am  not  afraid  of  Him.  Tell  me  the 
truth."  They  could  not  tell  him  and  in  tears  left  the 
room.  His  secretary  entered,  talked  with  him  a  few 
moments  and  then  heard  his  confession.  Again  he 
begged  for  Holy  Communion,  but  the  vomiting  re- 
turned and  he  was  told  he  must  wait  a  little  while. 
Recalling  the  fact  that  washing  out  the  stomach  on 
the  previous  day  had  stopped  the  nausea,  he  asked 
that  this  be  done.  The  Sister  reminded  him  of  the 
anguish  it  had  caused  him  then. 

"That  does  not  matter,"  he  replied.  "Any  agony 
if  only  I  can  receive  my  God !" 

As  he  insisted  Doctor  Garland  complied.  The 
Bishop  was  so  weakened  by  the  operation  that  it  was 
necessary  to  inject  a  strong  salt  solution.  This  is 
among  the  most  painful  of  treatments,  but  he  made 
no  murmur.  After  resting  a  few  moments  he  was 
able  to  receive  Holy  Communion.  One  of  his  priests 
brought  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  and  in  the  presence 
of  many  of  the  clergy,  of  religious,  members  of  his 
own  family,  administered  the  Viaticum.  Immediately 
the  Bishop  seemed  stronger.  His  eyes  shone  with 
almost  unearthly  brightness,  and  in  a  voice  strong 
and  clear  he  addressed  his  priests  : 

"Be  good  priests  always,  good  and  faithful.  Give 
my  love  to  all  the  priests  and  to  all  the  people.  You 
have  been  a  comfort  to  me.  You  have  all  been  most 
kind  to  me.  I  want  to  beg  your  forgiveness  for  any 
fault,  any  disedification,  any  unkindness  I  have  ever 
shown  you.  No,  no," — as  they  murmured  dissent 
"I  mean  it.  I  might  have  done  better.  I  am  sorry 
for  any  fault." 

He  blessed  them  individually  and  asked  each  one 
to  pray  for  him.  As  their  loud  sobs  filled  the  room, 


370  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

he  said :  "  God  needs  me  more  than  you  do.  I  am 
ready  to  go.  God  chose  me  for  His  Work.  His 
Will  be  done." 

He  blessed  the  Sisters  as  they  came  one  by  one 
to  his  bedside,  giving1  a  special  benediction  to  the 
heads  of  the  institutions,  for  the  souls  entrusted  to 
their  care.  He  then  asked  that  he  should  see  each 
member  of  his  own  family  alone.  No  one  but  them- 
selves knew  what  that  last  farewell  meant.  The  most 
loving  and  devoted  son,  the  kindest  and  most  af- 
fectionate brother  was  parting  with  them.  Holding 
his  mother's  trembling  hand  he  said:  "Mother  dear, 
I  do  not  belong  to  you  now.  I  belong  to  God.  He 
chose  me  for  His  Work.  His  Holy  Will  be  done.  I 
shall  see  Father  and  Tommie  in  heaven  and  I  shall 
tell  them  all  about  you." 

All  during  the  day,  friends  came  from  far  and 
near  to  receive  the  Bishop's  last  blessing.  To  each 
he  said  a  kind  word,  raised  his  hand  in  benediction 
and  sent  a  remembrance  to  some  one  in  their  homes. 
He  insisted  on  admitting  all  who  called  and  once 
when  there  were  several  in  the  room  he  gasped  for 
air  and  the  occupants  were  told  to  retire  as  he 
needed  all  the  oxygen.  When  he  rallied  a  little  he 
said,  "  Do  not  send  them  away  if  I  can  be  any  com- 
fort to  them.  I  have  always  tried  to  help  my  people. 
Let  me  do  so  to  the  end."  The  Sisters  of  Mercy, 
the  Sisters  of  Jesus  and  Mary,  the  Benedictine 
Fathers,  the  Grey  Nuns,  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy 
Cross,  the  Benedictine  Sisters,  the  Christian  Broth- 
ers, the  Sisters  of  the  Precious  Blood,  and  the  Sisters 
from  his  own  household  all  came  for  the  last  time 
to  speak  with  their  beloved  Bishop  and  best  friend. 
To  each  he  bade  an  affectionate  farewell  and  bestowed 
his  last  blessing. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  371 

"Ah,  Father  William!"  he  said  to  a  young  priest 
from  the  college,  "you  must  be  good  always,  for  you 
are  my  boy.  You  are  the  first  priest  I  ordained,  are 
you  not?" 

"No,  Bishop,"  replied  the  young  priest  in  a  voice 
broken  with  sobs,  "it  was  Father  Ignatius." 

"Was  it?"  said  the  Bishop.  "Don't  cry.  You  are 
my  boy  just  the  same,  and  you  must  be  good  just 
the  same." 

To  Mother  Gonzaga,  at  whose  golden  jubilee  he  had 
pontificated  but  a  month  before,  he  said  :  "  Come  here, 
you  holy  patriarch  !  May  God  bless  you.  When  I  go  to 
heaven  I  will  pray  for  your  Old  Men's  Home." 

Finally  he  asked  that  all  should  go  to  the  chapel 
to  recite  the  prayers  for  the  dying,  that  he  might 
be  left  alone  with  God.  Gladly  his  thoughts  turned 
from  earth  to  heaven.  Over  and  over  he  said  aloud, 
"God's  holy  will  be  done,"  and,  "O  Sacred  Heart 
of  Jesus !  in  Thee  I  have  hoped,  let  me  not  be  con- 
founded." When  his  poor  parched  lips  found  it  dif- 
ficult to  pronounce  the  words,  he  would  ask  the 
Sisters  to  repeat  them  for  him. 

Gazing  at  the  crucifix  on  the  wall  before  him,  he 
said  :  "  Sleeping  or  waking  I  can  see  that  cross,  but 
I  cannot  make  out  our  Lord  alone.  It  is  always 
two  I  see.  I  imagine  I  am  being  tortured  beside  Him. 
He  is  helping  me  to  bear  my  crucifixion,  I  pray  that 
He  will  help  me  to  the  end." 

For  a  brief  period  his  thoughts  and  mind  seemed 
entirely  away  from  earth,  and  he  spoke  at  length  to 
the  Infant  Jesus.  His  own  voice  aroused  him  to  full 
consciousness  again,  and,  turning  to  his  sister,  he  said  : 
"Did  my  mind  wander?  Do  not  let  it  do  so  again. 
I  have  prayed  to  God  all  my  life  that  I  might  die  in 
full  consciousness." 


372  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

As  he  watched  the  attending  surgeon,  who  was  not 
of  our  faith,  administering  to  his  wants,  he  said:  "I 
should  like  to  see  you  a  Catholic  before  I  die.  I  can- 
not hope  for  that  happiness,  but  I  trust  you  may  be 
one  before  you  die."  The  young  physician  said  he  had 
learned  many  beautiful  lessons  of  the  Catholic  faith 
while  on  this  case,  and  never  saw  such  fortitude  and 
perfect  resignation.  The  Bishop  then  said:  "Think 
well  on  all  you  have  seen  here  to-day.  It  is  a  holy 
faith.  It  is  a  hard  faith  to  live  by  but  a  grand  one 
to  die  by.  In  your  work  you  see  much  of  life  and 
much  of  death.  It  must  make  you  think  of  the  great, 
great  Eternity." 

The  effort  had  been  too  much,  and  the  pain  returned 
with  redoubled  violence.  When  it  seemed  as  though 
he  could  not  stand  it  any  longer,  he  would  say  to 
those  around  him:  "Pray  harder.  Pray  that  I  may 
endure  to  the  end.  I  fear  that  I  may  break  down." 

Every  little  while  he  asked  what  time  it  was,  and 
how  much  longer  they  thought  he  would  have  to  wait. 
When  told  it  was  near  three  o'clock :  "  That  is  Our 
Lord's  Hour.  Pray  that  He  may  take  me  then,"  he 
said,  As  it  neared  six  he  remarked:  "Perhaps  I 
will  go  when  the  bells  ring  the  Regina  Coeli."  Then 
as  they  sounded  he  remembered:  "It  is  not  the 
Regina  Coeli,  is  it?  It  changes  to-day  to  the  Angelus. 
I  had  forgotten  that  it  is  Trinity  Sunday.  Let  us 
say  it  aloud."  And  they  did,  the  Bishop  giving  the 
responses. 

As  he  looked  at  the  sorrowful  ones  around  him 
he  said  that  he  was  sorry  to  weary  them,  for  he  felt 
all  must  be  tired  waiting  for  the  end.  He  wished  they 
would  go  and  take  some  rest,  as  he  must  yet  wait 
awhile  for  his  release.  "Yes,"  said  the  Sister,  "you 
are  not  going  to  die  quite  yet,  Bishop.  You  will 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  373 

have  to  wait  until  to-morrow,  and  the  apostle  whose 
feast  it  is  and  Bishop  Bradley,  whose  anniversary  it 
is,  will  come  and  bring  you  to  God.  You  will  cele- 
brate his  feast  day  in  heaven."  "I  will  tell  him 
about  you,"  he  replied,  "but  I  never  expect  to  be 
near  him.  He  was  too  good  for  me  to  hope  to  be  so 
high."  "You  will  be  near  him,  never  fear,"  was  the 
gentle  assurance. 

"O  Sister!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  fear  the  Bishop  will 
be  disappointed  in  me,  but  I  tried,  I  tried  to  do  my 
best."  A  few  minutes  later  he  spoke  again:  "Sister, 
you  saw  a  better  man  than  I  die.  We  both  watched 
beside  him.  He  taught  me  how  to  die,  and  I  trust 
in  God  he  taught  me  just  a  little  how  to  live." 

Dr.  Richardson  arrived  about  six.  He  dressed  the 
wound  and  gave  other  heroic  treatment,  which  so 
weakened  the  Bishop  that  it  was  again  necessary  to 
inject  the  salt  solution.  This  caused  excruciating 
pain.  As  the  long  needle  entered  his  side  the  Bishop 
remarked:  "That  was  just  where  our  Lord  was  pierced." 
He  then  questioned  the  doctor:  "Had  I  appendi- 
citis?" "Yes,  Bishop."  "What  is  this?  Periton- 
itis?" "Yes,  Bishop."  "No  one  is  to  blame.  Thank 
you,  doctor,  I  will  have  nothing  more  done." 

Toward  midnight  he  began  to  fail  gradually.  More 
than  once  he  was  thought  to  be  dying,  but  each  time 
his  wonderful  vitality  conquered.  Over  and  over  he 
asked  that  the  prayers  be  continued,  and  in  response 
to  the  rosary  he  incessantly  said :  "  Holy  Mary, 
Mother  of  God,  pray  for  me  now,  it  is  the  hour  of 
my  death."  Over  and  over  he  begged  the  attendants 
to  repeat  the  petitions  for  the  dying  which  he  had 
not  strength  to  utter,  while  he  himself  breathed  con- 
tinually familiar  aspirations,  particularly  the  one  which 
he  had  chosen  for  his  motto:  "O  Sacred  Heart  of 


374  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

Jesus,  in  Thee  I  have  hoped,  let  me  not  be  con- 
founded." "  The  Heart  of  Jesus  is  my  Hope.  The 
Heart  of  Jesus  is  my  Love  I" 

Once,  when  his  mind  wandered  for  a  few  moments, 
he  spoke  as  if  he  were  giving  an  instruction  to  some 
of  his  religious.  "  When  you  make  your  meditation, 
Sister,"  he  said,  "make  it  in  the  presence  of  God. 
Try  to  bring  the  Holy  Spirit  into  your  heart,  child. 
Beg  of  Him  for  His  light  and  His  love  that  you  may 
keep  thus  ever  in  the  presence  of  God.  Beg  of  Him 
to  fill  your  heart  with  His  peace,  because  without 
God's  love  and  peace  we  have  nothing.  Do  this 
always.  Amen."  "My  God,  I  love  You  more  than 
words  can  tell,"  his  parched  lips  still  murmured  as 
life  ebbed  slowly  and  surely  away.  "  My  God,  Thy 
Will  be  done  !"  With  one  supreme  effort  he  partly 
raised  himself  in  bed,  turned  his  dying  eyes  towards 
heaven,  and  in  a  voice  so  loud  and  distinct  as  to  be 
heard  in  the  adjoining  rooms,  prayed  :  "Sweet  Jesus! 
Look  down  upon  a  poor,  frail,  suffering  being,  who 
has  not  strength  to  do  for  You  all  that  he  would 
wish  to  do,  but  who,  with  these  inarticulate,  inex- 
pressible words  gives  forth  these  sentiments  from 
the  depths  of  a  loving  heart.  O  Holy  Spirit  of 
Truth  !  Spirit  of  Life  !  Spirit  of  Guidance  !  direct  my 
footsteps  always  in  Thy  paths.  O  Holy  Spirit  of 
Purity  !  give  me  the  grace  to  follow  Thee  always." 

The  last  words  were  hardly  audible.  His  life  was 
all  but  gone.  Weaker  and  weaker  he  grew.  Finally, 
with  a  supernatural  strength,  he  repeated  slowly  and 
with  perfect  distinctness  :  "  O  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus, 
in  Thee  I  have  hoped,  I  know  I  will  not  be  con- 
founded !"  The  weary  waiting  was  over.  The  soul 
of  Bishop  Delany  was  with  God. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  375 

Death  came  at  3.40  o'clock  Monday  morning-,  June 
llth.  In  a  short  time  the  sad  news  had  spread  all  over 
the  city,  the  State,  and  the  entire  country.  During 
the  night  crowds  had  gathered  outside  the  hospital, 
and  waited  there  hour  after  hour,  hoping-  against 
hope,  until  the  end  came.  When  the  word  was  an- 
nounced to  them  that  their  Bishop  was  dead  it  was 
with  tear-stained  faces  and  sorrowful  hearts  they  dis- 
persed in  silence  to  their  various  houses. 

By  noon  the  body  had  been  prepared  for  burial. 
While  it  still  reposed  in  the  hospital  awaiting  its  re- 
moval to  the  cathedral  residence,  who  can  ever  for- 
get a  scene  that  there  took  place — that  of  Bishop 
Delany's  afflicted  mother  in  prayer  beside  the  body  of 
her  beloved  son.  With  his  icy  hand  in  hers  as  she 
bent  over  his  lifeless  form,  with  heroic  resignation 
she  said  :  "  My  son,  I  give  you  to  God,  for  He  gave 
you  to  me.  You  have  done  God's  Will.  I  will  not 
complain.  He  knows  best.  May  His  Holy  Will  be 
done  1" 

After  six  months  of  anguish  and  bereavement  she 
was  reunited  to  the  son  she  loved  so  well. 

The  scene  attending  the  removal  of  the  body  from 
the  hospital  to  the  episcopal  residence  was  a  sad  one. 
A  large  number  of  people  gathered  in  the  vicinity 
late  in  the  afternoon  in  anticipation  of  the  event. 

A  few  minutes  before  six  o'clock  the  body  of 
Bishop  Delany  was  removed  to  the  cathedral  resi- 
dence. Here  it  was  invested  in  full  episcopal  robes,  and 
was  placed  in  the  beautiful  parlor,  which  was  heavily 
draped  in  deepest  mourning.  And  here  on  the  wall 
was  hung  for  the  first  time  the  magnificent  life-sized 
oil  painting  of  the  Bishop,  which  had  lately  arrived 
from  Rome. 

During  the  rest  of  the  evening  the  doors  were 
thrown  open  for  the  admission  of  the  public,  and 


376  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

thousands  of  visitors  availed  themselves  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  look  for  the  last  time  on  the  countenance 
of  their  beloved  Bishop.  A  company  of  the  Sheridan 
Guards  was  on  duty  in  the  room  where  the  body  re- 
posed and  at  the  doors  of  the  residence.  They  re- 
mained here  until  Wednesday  afternoon,  when  pre- 
parations were  made  for  the  removal  of  the  body  to 
the  cathedral. 

At  three  o'clock  the  solemn  ceremony  was  wit- 
nessed by  a  representative  gathering  of  people  in  all 
walks  of  life,  who  congregated  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
cathedral  and  the  episcopal  residence.  Long  before 
the  hour  for  the  beginning  of  the  procession  the 
people  began  to  assemble.  The  ceremony  was  one 
that  will  live  long  in  the  memory  of  those  who  wit- 
nessed it. 

The  cathedral  doors  were  opened  at  two  o'clock, 
and  there  was  a  large  number  of  people  anxiously 
awaiting  admission  to  the  edifice,  preferring  to  secure 
seats  there  and  witness  the  procession  as  it  entered 
the  cathedral  than  to  remain  outside  and  come  in 
with  the  crush.  The  center  aisle  had  been  reserved 
for  the  members  of  the  clergy  and  civic  bodies  who 
participated  in  the  ceremony.  The  side  aisles  were 
for  the  general  public,  and  they  were  filled  in  a  short 
time. 

Promptly  at  two  o'clock  the  delegations  from 
twenty  different  Catholic  societies  assembled  in  the 
basement  of  the  cathedral,  where  they  received  orders 
regarding  their  duties. 

In  the  meantime,  the  entire  company  of  Sheridan 
Guards  performed  patrol  duty  on  the  streets,  keep- 
ing the  crowd  back  and  the  sidewalks  clear  in  order 
that  no  hindrance  might  be  caused  to  the  procession. 

From  two  to  three  o'clock  the  streets  in  the  imme- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  377 

diate  vicinity  were  closed  to  travel  through  the 
courtesy  of  the  street  and  park  commissioners. 
Huge  horses  spread  across  the  streets,  draped  in 
deep  mourning-,  blocked  the  highways,  while  details 
of  soldiers  prevented  an  attempt  of  drivers  to  pass 
through.  The  crowd  was  ably  handled  and  did 
not  interfere  in  the  slightest  with  the  plans. 
Promptly  at  2.30  o'clock  the  several  civic 
bodies  which  had  been  assembled  in  the  basement 
marched  out  and  were  stationed  on  either  side  of  the 
sidewalk  from  the  middle  entrance  of  the  cathedral 
as  far  as  the  episcopal  residence.  The  Holy  Name 
Society  had  the  right  of  line,  being  stationed  at  the 
cathedral  entrance. 

The  solemn  procession  as  it  left  the  episcopal  res- 
idence was  a  most  impressive  sight.  The  people 
stood  in  awe,  the  men  with  their  heads  uncovered, 
as  the  funeral  cortege  moved  with  slow,  steady  step 
through  the  streets  to  the  cathedral. 

A  platoon  of  eleven  fourth  degree  members  of  the 
Knights  of  Columbus,  of  the  Manchester  council, 
acted  as  a  special  escort.  The  members  wore  silk 
hats  and  Prince  Albert  coats,  with  black  gloves  and 
black  ties.  Each  member  wore  a  baldric  of  the 
national  colors  and  carried  a  sword,  insignias  of  the 
Fourth  Degree. 

As  Bishop  Delany,  who  was  State  chaplain  of  the 
Knights  of  Columbus,  and  perhaps  the  only  bishop 
in  the  United  States  who  was  a  Fourth  Degree  mem- 
ber of  the  order  at  that  time,  it  was  fitting  that  the 
members  of  this  degree  should  act  as  a  special 
escort. 

This  body  headed  the  procession  proper,  and  was 
followed  by  the  chancel  choir  of  the  cathedral,  com- 
posed of  the  boys  of  St.  Joseph's  high  school  and  the 
altar  boys.  They  were  attired  in  cassocks  and  sur- 
plices. 


378  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Then  came  the  members  of  the  clergy  in  their 
soutanes  and  surplices,  each  carrying-  a  lighted 
candle.  All  the  priests  of  the  city  and  a  number 
from  near  and  distant  places  participated  in  the 
services.  All  chanted  the  "  MiserereV' 

Then  came  the  body  of  Bishop  Delany  in  the  huge 
metallic  casket,  which  rested  on  the  shoulders  of  a 
detail  from  the  Sheridan  Guards.  Ten  men  carried 
the  casket,  while  another  detail  walked  alongside  in  case 
of  emergency.  With  measured  tread  the  burden  was 
slowly  and  sadly  borne.  Following  the  Bishop's  body 
came  the  members  of  his  family.  Then  the  field  and 
staff  of  the  First  Infantry,  which  completed  the  line. 

Expressions  of  sympathy  were  to  be  heard  on  all 
sides  as  the  procession  marched  along,  and  there  was 
a  shadow  of  gloom  over  the  entire  assemblage. 

The  casket  bearing  the  body  of  the  Prelate  was 
placed  on  a  great  catafalque  which  had  been  erected 
in  the  center  aisle  of  the  cathedral. 

As  soon  as  all  entered  the  edifice  prayers  were  com- 
menced by  the  clergy,  and  joined  in  by  the  entire 
congregation.  This  closed  the  ceremony  for  the  after- 
noon, and  the  body  lay  in  state  until  the  following  day. 
Throughout  the  night  every  Catholic  organization 
watched  in  turn  for  an  hour  and  prayed  aloud  during 
that  time. 

The  interior  of  the  church  had  been  extensively 
draped.  The  handsome  altars  appeared  in  their  sombre 
garb  of  purple  and  black.  Large  streamers  and  fes- 
toons of  the  same  colors  appeared  throughout  the  body 
of  the  edifice,  and  everything  was  in  deep  mourning. 

The  throne  of  Bishop  Delany  which  he  had  occupied 
during  the  twenty-one  months  of  his  prelacy  had 
been  heavily  draped  in  purple  and  black. 

Thursday  was  a  solemn  day  in  Manchester,  a  day 
when  an  inexpressibly  sad  ceremony  was  made  still 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  379 

more  solemn  and  impressive  by  the  memories  of  an 
all  too  recent  event  which  crowded  upon  the  reverent 
throng.  It  was  such  a  short  time  before  that  a  sim- 
ilar great  company,  composed  of  nearly  the  same 
people,  assembled  in  St.  Joseph's  Cathedral  to  wit- 
ness the  consecration  of  their  Bishop.  Only  twenty- 
one  months  before  he  had  ascended  the  altar  steps, 
with  mitre  and  crosier,  for  the  first  time.  It  was 
all  so  recent  that  it  seemed  but  yesterday,  and  to 
the  sorrow  that  must  attend  a  funeral  service  was 
added  the  profoundest  regret  that  Bishop  Delany's 
life  work  was  so  soon  over. 

In  that  sad  hour  the  city  virtually  stood  still.  Fed- 
eral and  municipal  buildings  were  closed.  The  doors 
of  business,  banking,  and  insurance  houses  were  shut. 
The  busy  hum  of  the  machinery  of  the  great  textile 
manufactories  and  shoe  shops  was  hushed.  The 
schools,  public  as  well  as  parochial,  were  dismissed. 
The  usual  course  of  the  city's  life  was  suspended. 

While  the  community  thus  stood  still  in  reverence, 
a  scene  that  will  live  as  long  as  memory  lasts  was 
being  enacted  at  St.  Joseph's  Cathedral.  The  Gover- 
nor of  New  Hampshire  and  his  staff,  the  leading  of- 
ficials of  the  city,  and  representatives  of  its  great 
manufacturing  and  business  interests  were  there. 
All  the  members  of  the  hierarchy  in  New  England 
were  present  and  participated  in  the  solemn  cere- 
monies. Clergymen  from  neighboring  dioceses,  in 
large  numbers,  were  in  attendance  to  pay  their  last 
tribute  to  the  Manchester  prelate.  All  the  priests 
of  the  see  of  Manchester  were  at  the  cathedral, 
where  their  leader  had  ministered.  Distinguished 
laymen  of  the  Church  were  there  representing  the 
several  organizations  of  the  Church  or  in  their  indi- 
vidual capacity,  while  the  rank  and  file  of  the  institu- 


380  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

tions  of  the  city  and  surrounding  country  were 
represented  in  the  throng-  that  packed  the  edifice 
and  the  streets  for  blocks  around. 

No  invitations  to  the  funeral  services  had  been  ex- 
tended, and  for  this  reason  a  large  crowd  gathered 
at  an  early  hour  anxious  to  gain  admission  to  the 
church.  At  ten  o'clock  the  massive  cathedral  doors 
were  swung  open,  and  the  church  was  soon  filled  to 
its  utmost  capacity. 

The  sanctuary  hardly  sufficed  for  the  large  num- 
ber present.  It  included  Most  Rev.  John  J.  Williams, 
D.  D.,  late  Archbishop  of  Boston,  Most  Rev.  William 
H.  O'Connell,  D.  D.,  Rt.  Rev.  Joseph  G.  Anderson,  D. 
D.,  Rt.  Rev.  William  Stang,  D.  D.,  Rt.  Rev.  John 
Michaud,  D.  D.,  Rt.  Rev.  Matthew  Harkins,  D.  D.,  Rt. 
Rev.  Thomas  Beaven,  D.  D.,  Rt.  Rev.  Michael  Tierney, 
D.  D.,  and  over  two  hundred  priests,  including  many 
monsignori  and  representatives  from  nearly  all  the 
religious  orders  of  New  England. 

The  mayor  of  Manchester,  the  mayor  of  Lowell, 
the  chief  justices  of  the  supreme  and  superior  courts 
were  also  present.  There  were  representatives  from 
Boston  College,  Holy  Cross  College,  Knights  of  Col- 
umbus from  several  councils,  and  Protestant  clergy- 
men from  nearly  a  dozen  churches  in  the  city.  All 
had  gathered  without  distinction  of  position,  race,  or 
creed  to  pay  their  last  tribute  to  their  Bishop  and 
friend. 

The  ceremony  was  elaborate  in  all  its  details  and 
most  solemn.  The  celebrant  and  officers  of  the  Mass 
wore  vestments  of  black,  while  the  clergy  appeared 
in  their  cassocks,  with  white  surplices,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  archbishops,  bishops,  and  monsignori, 
who  were  easily  distinguished  by  their  robes  of 
purple. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  381 

The  solemn  ceremony  began  with  the  chanting  of 
the  Office  of  the  Dead,  the  entire  clergy  responding1. 
The  officers  of  the  pontifical  requiem  Mass  entered 
in  procession  from  the  vestry  of  the  church.  The 
celebrant  of  the  Mass  was  the  Most  Rev.  William  H. 
O'Connell,  D.  D.,  then  coadjutor  and  now  Archbishop 
of  Boston,  assistant  priest  Rt.  Rev.  Mgr.  O'Callaghan 
of  Concord,  vicar  general  and  administrator  of  the 
diocese  ;  deacon  of  the  Mass  Rt.  Rev.  Joseph  G.  And- 
erson, D.  D.,  now  auxiliary  bishop  of  Boston  ;  sub- 
deacon,  Rev.  John  A.  Began  of  Boston;  thurifer  Rev. 
Fr.  William,  O.  S.  B.  ;  acolytes,  the  Rev.  Walter  Dee 
and  Rev.  Thomas  Loughlin  ;  masters  of  ceremony 
and  other  officers  were  Rev.  Thomas  M.  O'Leary, 
Rev.  William  Sweeney,  Rev.  James  Brennan,  and  Rev. 
Jonn  Casey,  all  of  the  cathedral.  The  music  of  the 
Mass  was  rendered  by  the  New  Hampshire  priests 
in  the  plain  Gregorian  chant. 

The  eulogy  was  given  by  Rev.  John  T.  Mullen,  D.  D., 
a  college  classmate  and  life  long  friend  of  Bishop 
Delany.  It  was  with  the  deepest  emotion,  which 
visibly  affected  all  present,  that  Dr.  Mullen  spoke  as 
follows  : 

"Being  made  perfect  in  a  short  space,  he  fulfilled 
a  long  time;  for  his  soul  pleased  God."  Wisdom  iv., 
13,  14. 

In  the  minds  of  many  here  to-day  there  will  arise 
a  picture  of  that  September  day  some  twenty  months 
ago  within  these  sacred  walls.  A  young  priest  of  this 
diocese,  young  in  years,  but  old  in  wisdom  and  good 
works,  was  to  receive  the  episcopal  consecration  and 
to  be  raised  to  the  high  dignity  of  chief  pastor,  teacher, 
guide,  and  leader  in  God's  Church.  There  was  present 
here  the  Apostolic  Delegate,  the  immediate  represent- 
ative of  Christ's  Vicar  on  earth,  giving  vivid  testimony 


382  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

to  the  new  Bishop  of  his  Apostolic  succession.  We 
had  then  present,  as  we  have  to-day,  the  venerable 
Metropolitan  of  this  province,  brother  bishops  and 
fellow  priests,  and  faithful  people.  All  was  joy  and 
gladness,  all  breathed  forth  a  spirit  of  hope  and  promise. 
We  remember  how  the  sacred  vestments  were  placed 
upon  him,  the  solemn  rites  of  consecration  adminis- 
tered, the  crosier  and  ring-  bestowed  upon  him,  and 
all  bowed  down  low,  happy  to  receive  his  first  epis- 
copal blessing.  Who  has  forgotten  that  solemn  ending, 
when  the  new  Bishop,  in  token  of  his  gratitude  to  the 
conscrating  prelate,  kneels  before  him  and  three  times 
intones  with  heartfelt  accents  "Ad  multos  annos." 
And  what  heart  was  there  that  did  not  breathe  forth 
the  same  prayer  for  the  young  Bishop?  What  a  change 
to-day!  Clad  in  his  episcopal  robes  he  is  with  us  still 
in  form  and  figure,  but  that  strong  youthful  life  has 
passed  away  from  us.  Our  hopes  are  shattered  and 
promises  defeated. 

"Of  the  depth  of  the  riches  of  wisdom  and  of  the 
knowledge  of  God!  How  incomprehensible  are  His 
judgments  and  how  unsearchable  His  ways!"  Looking 
above  and  beyond  our  grief  shall  we  say  that  God  has 
failed  us?  Is  it  true  that  our  prayers  were  dis- 
regarded? 

Have  we  reason  to  despair  of  God  and  His  provi- 
dences ?  Let  our  Christian  faith  give  us  the  answer. 
Let  it  tell  us  that  "  We  have  not  here  a  lasting  city, 
but  we  seek  one  that  is  to  come."  Let  it  speak  to 
us  that  man  is  made  for  his  God,  for  a  short  service 
here  on  earth,  for  eternity  hereafter.  "But  the  just 
shall  live  forevermore  ;  and  their  reward  is  with  the 
Lord  and  the  care  of  them  with  the  Most  High." 
That,  and  that  alone,  can  then  be  loss  which  destroys 
man's  hopes  of  a  glorious  immortality.  Judged  by 


OF  BISHOP  DEL  ANY  383 

these  eternal  truths,  is  the  life  which  has  gone  out  a 
loss  and  a  failure?  Is  the  death  we  mourn  a  reason 
for  despair?  Let  us  examine  that  life  but  a  little, 
let  us  recall  the  scene  of  that  death,  and  our  Christian 
faith  will  find  peace  and  calmness  to  soften  the  sor- 
row which  fills  our  hearts.  We  shall  see  fulfilled 
those  consoling-  words  of  Holy  Writ,  "Being  made 
perfect  in  a  short  space  he  fulfilled  a  long  time,  for 
his  soul  pleased  God."  And  not,  then,  for  him  shall 
we  mourn ;  not  for  the  passing  away  of  that  life 
which  has  seemed  to  go  out  in  the  very  noonday  of 
its  existence.  If  we  mourn,  we  mourn  for  ourselves  ; 
we  have  lost  a  friend,  father,  and  leader.  We  mourn 
for  Holy  Church  on  earth,  which  has  lost  a  worthy 
bishop;  we  mourn  for  the  State,  which  has  lost  a 
loyal  and  useful  citizen. 

It  is  not  for  me  to-day  to  try  to  portray  the  beauty 
of  that  life,  or  tell  in  detail  the  story  of  its  good  works. 
It  would  be  a  task  beyond  my  strength  for  many  rea- 
sons. A  few  brief  words  only  will  I  attempt,  incom- 
plete indeed,  but  enough,  I  hope,  for  our  comfort  and 
our  edification. 

John  Bernard  Delany  was  born  in  the  city  of  Lowell, 
August  9,  1864.  He  was  blessed  with  the  priceless 
gift  of  a  good  Catholic  home  and  parents.  Who  can 
measure  the  influence  of  this  fact  on  his  whole  life?  We 
shall  be  better  able  to  judge  when  we  recall  that  from 
that  home  there  went  out  two  other  lives,  a  brother  and 
sister,  devoted  to  God's  special  service  in  His  Church. 
After  receiving  his  early  education  in  the  schools  of  his 
native  city,  he  entered  college,  first  at  Holy  Cross, 
Worcester,  then  at  Boston  College,  from  which  institu- 
tion he  was  graduated  in  1887. 

Feeling  called  to  the  sacred  priesthood,  he  entered 
the  celebrated  seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  at  Paris,  and 


384  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

after  four  years  of  study  and  training-  he  was  ordained 
priest  May  23,  1891,  by  the  present  venerable  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris,  Cardinal  Richard.  He  was  a  faithful 
and  loyal  alumnus  of  that  institution,  wherein  were 
handed  down  for  centuries  the  best  traditions  of  Catho- 
lic France,  and  he  was  ever  ready  to  attribute  to  its  in- 
fluence and  training-  much  of  the  good  of  his  after  life, 
for  as  the  potter  receives  the  roug-h  clay  and  shapes  it 
into  various  forms  of  beauty  and  usefulness,  so  did 
that  institution  take  its  young-  men  from  school  and 
colleg-e  of  the  entire  world  to  fashion  them  to  be  men  of 
God  and  worthy  priests  of  His  Church. 

I  was  privileged  to  know  him,  and  the  mere  pass- 
ing- acquaintance  of  colleg-e  days  ripened  into  deep 
intimate  friendship,  continued  and  prized  ever  since. 
And  it  was  my  happiness  to  be  among-  the  first  to 
serve  his  Mass  after  his  ordination.  Already  in  those 
early  days  he  displayed  the  qualities  which  marked 
and  made  for  the  success  of  his  after  ministry.  The 
merest  acquaintance  with  him  soon  discovered  a  man 
with  more  than  ordinary  strength  of  character.  He 
was  conspicuous  before  all  for  the  well-balanced  or- 
der and  poise  of  his  judgment;  not  brilliant,  it  may 
be  said,  but  ready  and  solid  in  his  studies  and  all 
his  aims  and  purposes.  He  enjoyed  a  rare  combina- 
tion of  rich  and  various  qualities  of  mind  and  heart : 
Strength  and  firmness  with  quiet  docility  ;  active  zeal 
united  with  a  calm  discretion  ;  feeling  without  passion, 
and  a  tender  sympathy  without  softness  ;  an  even- 
ness of  temperament  and  ever-present  cheerfulness 
that  made  him  easily  a  favorite  with  all.  He  was  the 
soul  of  candor  and  straight-forwardness  in  all  his 
doings,  and  at  no  time  were  the  honesty  and  sincere 
unselfishness  of  his  purposes  ever  doubted  or  sus- 
pected by  those  who  knew  him.  He  had  what  might 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  385 

well  be  called  a  sterling-  character — a  manly  priest 
and  a  priestly  man.  There  was  a  side  of  his  person- 
ality which  was  known  best  to  his  teachers  and 
intimates — his  deep  religious  character.  Sham  and 
pretence  of  all  kinds  he  ever  disliked  and  avoided  ; 
and  his  easy,  familiar  ways  sometimes  hid  from  the 
unthinking-  the  depths  of  religious  conviction  and  piety 
within  him.  Beyond  his  favored  natural  qualities  he 
was  eminently  supernatural  in  all  his  views  and  aims. 
His  quiet,  steady  faith  and  confidence  in  God  and  the 
divine  life  of  the  Church  seemed  as  natural  to  him  as 
his  breathing,  and  as  vital.  The  influence  of  those 
seminary  days  elicited  from  him  that  whole-souled 
consecration  to  the  service  of  the  Church  which  was 
so  apparent  in  the  days  of  his  ministry  as  priest  and 
bishop.  And  for  him  the  Church  was  no  mere  form- 
ality or  organism,  but  the  living-,  acting-  souls  of  men 
and  women.  For  him  faith  meant  that  Jesus  is  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  in  whom  alone  is  the  world's 
salvation  and  life,  and  that  still  ever  around  us 
Christ  carries  on  this  blessed  dispensation  in  and 
throug-h  his  visible  Church  till  the  end  of  time.  For 
him,  then,  the  work  of  the  Church  was  to  make  God 
visible  and  tangible,  so  to  speak,  to  poor  humanity ; 
to  teach  all,  to  guide  all,  to  strengthen  and  console ; 
in  a  word,  to  help  all  to  know  and  reach  God,  their 
Heavenly  Father.  From  his  seminary  days  he  may 
be  said  to  have  made  his  object  in  life  those  words 
of  St.  Paul,  "to  renew  all  things  in  Christ." 

This  spirit  was  proved  by  him  in  his  early  min- 
istry on  his  return  home  in  1891.  For  some  eight 
years  he  labored  as  assistant  priest  and  acting-  pastor 
till  appointed  in  1898  to  the  position  of  chancellor 
and  secretary  to  the  lamented  Bishop  Bradley ;  and 
that  was  the  position  he  occupied  when  called  less  than 


386  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

two  years  ago  to  be  the  second  Bishop  of  Manchester. 
These  last  two  periods  of  his  life  are  but  as  one  - 
for  the  first  was  in  the  providence  of  God  but  the 
training  and  entrance  to  the  other.  His  work  brought 
him  into  closest  relations  with  his  superior,  and  won 
for  him  that  saintly  prelate's  fullest  confidence,  and 
in  return  he  gave  his  complete  and  most  loyal  ser- 
vice. One  after  another  were  important  duties  of 
every  kind  given  to  him  to  fulfill.  While  remaining 
chancellor  he  carried  on  the  office  of  diocesan  organ- 
izer and  director  of  the  League  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
of  Jesus;  he  was  intrusted  with  the  work  of  special 
missions  to  those  outside  the  Church;  he  was  selected 
to  act  as  promoter  for  the  Priests'  League, 
devoted  to  combat  the  drink  evil,  which  is  such 
a  menace  to  all  society.  He  was  the  Bishop's  assist- 
ant in  the  task  of  establishing  in  the  diocese  and 
elsewhere  the  Sisterhood  of  the  Precious  Blood.  He 
was  the  representative  visitor  on  the  State  Board  of 
Charity.  His  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  Catholic 
young  men  was  proven  by  him  as  State  chaplain  for 
the  Knights  of  Columbus.  And  when  the  time  came 
for  founding  a  distinctively  Catholic  publication  in 
the  diocese  it  was  he  who  was  chosen  to  carry  out 
this  difficult  project,  and  The  Guidon  stands  to-day 
a  monument  to  his  tactful  and  earnest  endeavors, 
fulfilling  with  ever-increasing  proof  the  truth  of  its 
motto,  "For  God  and  the  Nation."  It  was  evident 
to  all  that  the  Bishop  trusted  him  fully  and  in  many 
ways  greatly  depended  upon  him.  And  it  was  not 
unexpected  that  he  should  be  the  successor  when 
Bishop  Bradley  passed  to  his  eternal  reward. 

Though  differing  outwardly  in  some  respects,  these 
two  lives  had  much  in  common.  To  each  his  high 
dignity  and  office  had  come  unsought,  and  was  ac- 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  387 

cepted  only  in  the  spirit  of  faith  as  a  field  of  greater 
opportunities  for  doing-  good  in  the  vineyard  of  the 
Lord.  To  each  it  was  in  the  fullest  sense  "Noblesse 
oblige;"  the  pastoral  office  meant  larger,  more  re- 
sponsible duties  for  the  care  of  souls.  And  to  each 
the  courage  and  strength  to  carry  out  these  duties 
came  in  his  trust  in  God  and  a  profound  conviction 
of  his  divine  calling.  As  priest,  our  dear  friend  had 
sat  at  the  feet  of  his  saintly  Bishop  and  had  imbibed 
his  Christlike  love  for  souls.  He  was  ever  glad  to 
acknowledge  the  debt  he  owed  his  pious,  saintly 
predecessor  during  those  years  of  intimacy,  and  when 
he  himself  took  up  the  episcopal  charge  almost  his 
first  act  was  to  raise  the  massive  Celtic  cross  on  the 
church  grounds  as  a  monument  to  his  teacher,  a 
fitting  symbol  of  his  life  work  and  spirit.  Again  and 
again  he  bore  public  testimony  of  his  deep  apprecia- 
tion of  the  work  done  before  him.  He  found  a  dio- 
cese well  ordered  and  organized ;  college  and  hospital, 
convents,  schools,  and  asylums  established  and  in  ex- 
cellent working  condition;  a  numerous  and  ever- 
growing body  of  loyal  and  zealous  priests,  and  a 
large  Catholic  population,  diverse  in  many  ways,  but 
united  in  their  allegiance  and  devotions  to  their 
spiritual  shepherd.  How  proud  the  new  Bishop  was 
of  his  clergy  1  How  often  he  would  speak  in  praise 
of  their  fidelity  to  him  and  of  their  laborious,  self- 
sacrificing  care  of  their  charges  1  How  he  count- 
ed on  their  support  in  his  new  plans  and 
improvements ;  for  plans  and  projects  he  had  of 
his  own  for  the  benefit  of  the  diocese.  Some 
of  these  he  has  made  known  when  he  had 
them  well  matured  and  ready  for  execution.  Others, 
of  as  vast  and  useful  a  character,  he  had  laid  up  in 
his  zealous  spirit  with  his  usual  prudence  and  dis- 


388  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

cretion  till  the  favorable  time  should  come  for  rea- 
lizing them.  The  All-Wise  Providence  of  God  has 
known  them  and  will  reward  him  for  them  ;  but  their 
execution  must  wait  for  another  heart  and  hand. 
May  God  in  His  goodness  and  mercy  grant  to  this 
diocese  as  worthy  a  bishop  as  him  we  mourn,  one 
who  will  care  for  the  seed  his  hands  have  planted 
these  last  twenty  months,  and  reap  the  bountiful 
harvest  which  he  so  hopefully  awaited  for  the  good 
of  souls  and  God's  honor  and  glory.  For  during  this 
short  time  there  was  no  work  in  the  diocese,  spirit- 
ual or  temporal,  which  has  not  felt  his  band  and  in- 
fluence ;  and  there  is  nothing  which  be  has  touched 
which  he  did  not  better. 

I  have  spoken  of  his  whole-souled  faith  and  devo- 
tion to  the  divine,  beneficent  mission  of  the  Church. 
This  spirit  was  the  golden  chain  which  supported  all 
his  aims  and  labors,  priestly  and  episcopal.  When, 
soon  after  his  consecration,  he  went  to  Rome  to 
venerate  the  see  of  the  apostle,  and  pay  his  rever- 
ence to  the  Vicar  of  Christ  on  earth,  his  faith 
seemed  to  receive  a  new  strength  and  inspiration. 
His  belief  in  the  divine  character  of  his  episcopal 
calling  was  invincible.  It  was  with  that  spirit  that 
he  took  up  its  dignity  and  burdens,  and  it  was  with 
that  same  spirit  that  he  laid  them  down.  I  cannot 
take  upon  myself  to  tell  the  story  of  these  last  days. 
It  has  been  a  heavy  task  to  think  of  him  and  speak 
of  him  as  he  was  in  those  bright  days  of  his  vigor 
and  activity.  It  has  been  done  only  too  unworthily, 
indeed,  but  only  as  a  love  token  of  a  strong  affection 
and  deep  reverence  for  him. 

His  life's  history  is  a  source  of  pride  and  edifica- 
tion ;  but  more  so  still  would  be  the  story  of  his 
death,  could  I  bear  to  tell  it.  When,  on  Sunday  last, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  389 

all  hope  was  gone  of  keeping  that  precious  life  by 
any  earthly  aid,  it  was  he  who  was  calmest  in  that 
chamber  of  death.  Oh,  the  beauty,  the  happiness  of 
that  Christian  death  I  What  calmness  and  patience 
in  his  distress  1  What  thoughtfulness  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  all  but  himself  !  He  looked  on  death  but  as 
going  to  the  Lord  and  Master,  in  whose  service  he 
had  spent  his  young  life  so  generously  and  so  well. 
With  truth  and  confidence  could  he  make  his  own  the 
words  of  the  Psalmist :  "  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd, 
and  I  shall  want  for  nothing.  He  hath  set  me  in  a 
place  of  pasture ;  He  hath  brought  me  up  on  the 
waters  of  refreshment.  He  hath  converted  my  soul. 
He  hath  led  me  in  the  paths  of  justice  for  His 
name's  sake.  For  though  I  should  walk  in  the  midst 
of  the  shadow  of  death  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  Thou 
art  with  me ;"  and  on  Monday  last,  in  his  forty- 
second  year,  and  the  sixteenth  of  his  priesthood  and 
the  second  of  the  episcopate,  as  the  sun  rose  over 
the  eastern  hills  in  all  its  strength  and  beauty,  scat- 
tering clouds  and  darkness  and  mist,  on  him  there 
rose  another  and  better  sun,  the  Sun  of  the  face-to- 
face  vision  of  his  God,  ending  forever  the  shadows 
and  cares  of  earth  and  bringing  to  his  immortal  soul 
God's  perpetual  light  and  eternal  rest. 

And  one  thought  more,  which  I  cannot  attempt  to 
dwell  upon,  nor  even  mention  at  this  time  but  for  an- 
other scene  with  which  we  are  all  familiar.  On  that 
ever-blessed  Friday,  two  thousand  years  ago,  by  the 
cross  of  the  world's  salvation  stood  the  sorrowful 
Mother,  sorrowing  at  the  death  of  her  beloved  Son. 
And  yet,  while  her  soul  was  pierced  with  the  sword  of 
anguish  at  the  thought  of  His  agony  and  her  loss,  still 
her  heart  was  calm  and  resigned,  knowing  that  death 
would  be  swallowed  up  in  victory.  Such  was  the  blessed 


390  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

and  sorrowful  Mother  of  Jesus — the  model  of  all  Chris- 
tian mothers,  the  model  and  consolation  of  the  Christian 
mother  here  to-day.  As  Mary,  so  did  she  give  her  son 
gladly  when  he  was  called  to  devote  his  life  to  the  work 
of  his  Heavenly  Father,  and,  as  Mary,  so  will  she  in 
this  hour  of  her  affliction  bow  down  her  soul  in  entire 
submission  to  the  will  of  God.  "It  is  God  who  has 
given,  it  is  God  who  has  taken  away;  may  the  name  of 
the  Lord  be  blessed  forever." 

And  may  the  same  spirit,  dearly  beloved  friends,  find 
place  in  our  hearts.  We  shall  bear  our  loss  at  the 
thought  of  his  gain,  for  loss  we  all  do  suffer  by  having 
no  more  with  us  the  model  and  inspiration  of  his  truly 
Christian  life.  Mourn  for  him  we  must;  but  let  us 
mourn  for  him  in  the  light  of  his  saintly  Christian 
death,  having  in  our  hearts  and  on  our  lips  the  prayer 
just  said  at  the  adorable  sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  that  "to 
him  and  to  all  who  have  gone  with  the  sign  of  faith  and 
rest  in  Christ,  God  may  grant  a  place  of  refreshment, 
light,  and  peace,  through  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.  Amen." 


The  solemn  ceremony  was  brought  to  a  close  by 
the  chanting  of  the  Absolutions  by  five  of  the  bishops. 
The  "Miserere'"  was  sung  by  the  choir,  after  which 
the  members  of  the  clergy  passed  in  procession  down 
the  center  aisle,  taking  a  last  view  of  the  dead 
prelate.  During  this  painful  scene  tears  were  shed 
and  sobs  of  sorrow  could  be  heard  throughout  the 
church.  When  the  last  of  the  clergy  and  prelates 
had  passed  the  body  of  the  Bishop  was  lowered  in 
the  casket  and  the  cover  was  placed  in  position. 

The  carriers,  all  military  men  of  a  uniform  height, 
formed  in  line  with  the  massive  metallic  casket  rest- 
ing on  their  shoulders,  and  with  slow,  measured 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  391 

tread  marched  down  the  center  aisle,  preceded  by 
members  of  the  clergy.  The  relatives  and  immedi- 
ate friends  of  the  family  followed.  The  body  was 
borne  out  of  the  main  entrance,  through  the  school- 
yard, into  the  basement  of  the  church. 

Arriving  at  the  crypt,  the  casket  was  placed  on  a 
small  catafalque  while  the  committal  services  were 
read.  Members  of  the  clergy  chanted  the  "Bene- 
dictus,"  and  the  casket  was  sprinkled  with  holy 
water.  It  was  then  placed  in  the  vault,  the  great 
iron  doors  closed  and  sealed.  Bishop  Delany  had  left 
all  earthly  possessions  for  the  glory  of  heaven  for- 
evermore. 


EXTRACT  FROM  THE  EULOGY  DELIVERED  BY  THE  MOST  REVER- 
END WILLIAM  H.  O'CONNELL,  D.  D.,  ARCHBISHOP  OF 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  AT  THE  MONTH'S  MIND  OF  BISHOP  DELANY, 
JULY  11,  1906. 

Bishop  Delany  has  passed  to  his  reward.  Like  every 
other  mortal  he  will  long  be  mourned  by  his  friends — 
those  who  knew  and  loved  him — and  by  the  world  at 
large  will  be  recalled  for  a  while  as  one  who  had  given 
great  promises  and  who  did  not  live  to  accomplish  them. 

Every  official  has  his  official  epitaph.  "Vixit":  The 
world  moves  on,  and  the  official  of  yesterday  is  re- 
placed by  the  official  of  to-day.  One  sorrow  drives  out 
another,  and  the  memory  of  any  grief,  however  great, 
soon  mercifully  passes,  except  to  those  whose  hearts 
have  received  a  wound  too  deep  to  heal  during  the  rest 
of  life. 

The  ecclesiastic  usually  has  few  to  mourn  a  personal 
loss.  His  life  is  given  to  the  Church  in  almost  an  im- 
personal way.  The  priest  is  the  father  of  his  flock — 
the  bishop  is  the  father  of  his  diocese.  He  labors  and 


392  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

toils,  and  lives  and  dies,  and  the  grave  closes  over  him. 
For  a  day  the  hearts  of  all  are  filled  with  solemn  grief — 
they  gather  around  the  lifeless  body,  and  their  prayers 
mingle  with  the  weeping  of  friends.  And  there  is  left 
only  a  memory. 

What  memory  does  this  people  enshrine  of  their 
young  Bishop,  so  soon  called  from  the  battle  of  life  to 
the  victory?  A  memory  of  youth  consecrated  to  God, 
of  intelligence  devoted  to  truth,  of  a  heart  honest,  pure, 
and  holy,  which  thrilled  with  the  impulse  of  a  strong 
zeal  and  beat  in  sympathy  with  the  unhappy  and  the 
poor  of  God. 

No  need  to  speak  here  of  those  qualities  which  as  a 
priest  endeared  him  to  his  people.  Nor  of  those  traits 
of  character  which  gave  such  promise  as  a  bishop,  and 
as  a  ruler  in  the  Church  of  God.  You,  beloved  priests, 
have  known  the  honesty  of  his  purpose,  the  simplicity 
of  his  faith,  the  rugged  manliness  of  his  virtue.  You 
have  known  his  kindliness  of  heart,  and  the  catholicity 
of  his  affection  for  you  all — impartiality.  His  life  was 
genuine — and  all  that  he  did  bore  the  mark  of  candor. 
He  had  the  frank  intrepidity  of  the  soldier  of  Christ. 
He  knew  the  duties  of  his  state — he  understood  the 
sacredness  of  the  laws  which  governed  his  office,  and 
he  feared  no  unjust  criticism  nor  flinched  before  the 
difficulties  of  his  post.  His  intention  was  clear  and  up- 
right, and,  with  the  strength  of  purpose  which  accom- 
panies perfect  honesty  of  purpose,  he  only  smiled  at 
the  cavilling  criticism,  which  was  only  thinly  veiled  by 
courtly  phrases.  He  was  a  good  bishop  because  he 
was  an  honest  man.  Had  he  lived  the  see  of  Manches- 
ter would  have  waxed  strong  under  his  hands.  Con- 
ditions needed  one  who  loved  all  and  feared  God 
alone.  He  lived  by  that  noble  rule,  and  as  knowledge 
of  his  character  grew,  so  inevitably  must  have  grown 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  393 

around  him  love,  unity,  strength; — Love,  for  nothing- 
creates  affection  but  affection;  unity,  for  the  rights 
of  all  would  be  safeguarded  and  the  feelings  of  all 
considered,  —  and  that  principle  welds  into  unity; 
strength,  for  that  is  the  child  of  love  and  unity. 

What  he  scarce  had  time  in  living  to  do,  much  of 
it  in  dying  he  accomplished.  Around  the  bedside  of 
the  young  Bishop  was  gathered  a  scene  which  typi- 
fied his  hopes  of  life.  Already  death  was  knocking 
at  his  heart,  and  the  youthful  hand  that  had  scarcely 
held  the  crozier  had  relaxed  in  the  feebleness  of  the 
old  age  of  fatal  illness.  It  must  have  all  seemed  a 
mystery  to  him  as  he  lay  there,  his  temples  still 
new  to  the  mitred  crown,  now  bound  in  the  thorny 
coronet  of  agony,  the  pectoral  cross  of  gold  and  jewels 
so  soon  put  aside  for  the  flinty  burden  of  his  youth's 
crucifix.  He  must  have  gazed  in  the  awful  stupor  of 
surprise  at  the  jewel  upon  his  finger,  reflecting  that 
soon  it  would  encircle  only  ashes.  Ah !  the  dread 
horror  of  that  single  moment,  when  it  came  clear  to 
him  that  death  was  standing  at  the  door  and  that 
soon  his  short  pontificate  would  end.  What  wonder 
if  the  cry  of  youth  had  broken  from  his  strong 
heart,  if  he  groaned  at  the  horrid  suddenness  of  the 
cutting  of  the  golden  thread  of  his  life  so  full  of 
hope, — not  as  the  worldling  shudders  at  the  sudden 
realization  that  pleasures  end  in  the  ineffable  horror 
of  agony, — but  as  one,  whose  life  looked  full  of  work 
for  God,  might  sadden  at  the  thought  that  it  is  not 
to  be.  Ah  1  even  had  one  inarticulate  groan  of  holy 
disappointment  escaped  one  so  young,  so  strong  to 
bear  and  work,  it  would  have  seemed  but  natural. 
But  he  was  supernatural  in  his  life's  hopes,  and  such, 
too,  was  the  supreme  ending  of  them.  He  had  put 
his  hands  to  the  plough;  he  would  not  turn  back. 


394  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

He  had  hoped  to  work  for  many  years ;  now  there 
were  left  only  a  few  hours  in  which  to  work, — and 
with  the  heroic  courage  of  a  faithful  heart,  loyal  to 
bis  post,  he  put  aside  illusions,  be  gave  one  long,  hard 
glance  at  the  broken  shaft  of  hopes,  and  girded  him- 
self for  the  contest  until  the  end.  He  had  thought  to 
have  long  years  in  which  to  round  out  the  series  of 
his  toiling  efforts  for  eternity ;  he  must  now  make 
each  moment  count  for  the  years  which  were  never 
to  be.  And  so  without  groan  or  tear  he  faced  the 
dread  combat, — strong  with  the  strength  of  faith  in 
God, — the  God  of  his  youth,  the  God  who  on  earth 
but  little  longer  than  he  had  ruled  his  little  flock, 
and  who,  like  him  in  youth  and  strength*  consum- 
mated His  shepherdhood.  Consummatus  in  breve. 
Oh  quam  breve  tempus.  But  consummatus — done, 
finished,  accomplished,  his  last  words  a  blessing  and 
a  prayer  for  his  priests  and  his  people,  with  the 
same  simple  trust  in  God  that  had  marked  his  whole 
life,  neither  shrinking  nor  daring,  but  calmly  con- 
fronting the  duty  of  death,  he  entered  eternity.  And 
this  diocese  was  once  more  widowed. 

A  month  has  passed  since  then — one  small  month, 
— the  eyes  are  dried  of  tears,  the  world  moves  on 
with  the  eternal  round  of  duties,  joys,  and  cares. 
The  young  Bishop  sleeps  beneath  the  altar,  and  even 
in  death,  even  from  his  tomb  just  beneath  us,  he 
speaks  to  us  to-day, — to  us  gathered  here  to  do  honor 
to  his  sacred  memory  and  to  chant  the  requiescat  of 
the  Church  for  the  peace  of  his  soul.  If  his  lips  could 
move  they  would  speak  to  us  now  the  great  lesson  we 
all  must  learn.  This  would  be  his  message: 

"Men  die;  the  Church  must  live;  bishop  succeeds 
bishop  in  the  long  line  of  apostolic  succession,  each 
with  his  separate  task  and  separate  work,  but  the 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  395 

faith  must  be  kept  alive  and  the  bond  of  charity  un- 
severed,  whoever  wields  the  crozier,  God  will  keep 
the  diocese  if  you  keep  your  sacred  trust.  Be  one 
— cor  unum  et  anima  una.  Let  all  those  who  kneel 
near  my  tomb  depart  not  until  they  hear  this  voice 

and  obey.     Cor  unum  et  anima  una." 

******* 

Men  die;  the  Church  must  live;  and  she  lives  in 
the  hearts  of  loyal  children,  not  by  mere  personal 
attachment,  but  by  eternal  and  unswerving  devotion 
to  her  eternal  truths.  Men  die ;  He  died  whose  life- 
blood  flowed  down  the  Cross  to  moisten  the  soil  that 
was  to  bring  forth  confessors  of  the  faith  He  taught. 
And  from  His  wounded  side  the  Church  sprang  with 
all  her  holy  line  of  pontiffs  to  rule  her  till  time  is  no 
more. 

Men  die ;  your  Bishop  died,  but  the  story  of  his 
life  lives  to  quicken  your  faith  and  devotion ;  to  warm 
your  love  for  Christ's  Vicar  ;  and  to  keep  strong  and 
true  your  pledge  of  obedience  to  him  whom  God  will 
send  you.  He  who  sleeps  beneath  this  sanctuary 
never  flinched,  never  for  a  moment  wavered  in  his 
holy  duty  toward  the  Church,  toward  her  chief  pon- 
tiff, toward  the  episcopate. 

I,  who  knew  him  well,  well  knew  his  love,  childlike 
in  its  purity,  manly  in  its  strength  for  Peter's  Chair, 
for  Rome,  for  Christ's  Vicar.  Who  that  saw  him  on 
that  happy  day,  when  for  the  first  time  he  knelt  at 
Pius's  knee,  could  forget  the  joy,  the  glow  of  fervor 
that  radiated  from  his  happy  countenance?  "I  never 
knew  till  now,"  he  said  to  me,  "  the  full  meaning  of 
the  episcopate,  the  wealth  of  power  it  embodies,  the 
worldwide  scope  of  the  Church,  and  the  absolute 
necessity  of  union  among  us  all  and  all  with  Rome. 
I  never  realized  till  now  that,  as  the  solitude  and  iso- 


396  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

lation  of  a  priest  finds  consolation  and  strength  in 
the  paternal  affection  of  his  bishop,  so  the  cold  isola- 
tion of  the  bishop  is  warmed  and  cheered  by  the  in- 
timate union  with  Rome.  It  is  our  strength  in 
trouble,  our  support  amid  the  misconceptions,  the 
calumnies,  the  false  voices,  that  trouble  every  official, 
whether  of  Church  or  State.  I  have  always  revered 
Rome ;  now  I  love  her."  With  such  sentiments  he 
left  her  gates  to  face  with  courage,  not  only  the  aw- 
ful storms  and  raging  tempests  of  the  seas,  over 
which  he  traveled  back  to  home,  but  the  more  terrible 
ocean  of  life,  which  most  of  us  must  embark  upon, 
and  which  he  would  have  courageously  braved,  had 
not  God,  after  a  brief  and  peaceful  sailing,  steered 
his  bark  home — to  the  haven  where  the  sails  are 
dropped  forever  and  whence  there  is  no  further  sor- 
rowful journeying;  but  where  the  anchor  is  cast, 
never  again  to  be  lifted,  where  there  is  no  wave  nor 
wind,  but  eternal,  never-ending  peace. 

I  saw  him  after  his  return  to  his  diocese,  and  knew 
that  his  visit  to  the  See  of  Peter  had  worked  in  him 
more  even  than  he  knew  or  realized.  There  was  after 
that  a  sudden  maturity  of  power,  a  deeper  sense  of 
responsibility,  a  wider,  broader  feeling  of  fellowship 
with  the  world  of  faith.  He  seemed  suddenly  to  feel 
that  he  was  on  firmer  ground,  that  the  novelty  of  the 
charm  had  passed,  but  had  left  a  sober  dignity  be- 
hind it,  a  lessening  of  the  splendor  of  the  mitred 
crown  and  a  growth  of  the  loving  companionship  of 
the  Cross  upon  his  heart.  He  felt  keenly,  as  I  know, 
the  bitterness  of  undeserved  reproach — the  sting  of 
unmerited  criticism,  but  he  had  learned  at  the  greater 
center  to  understand  that  no  one  escapes  it,  and  bis 
frown  of  sensitive  resentment  towards  malice  soon 
turned  into  the  smile  of  gentle  patience.  "I  do  my 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  397 

best,"  he  said  to  me,  "I  shall  always  try  to  do  that. 
Probably  that  will  always  be  too  little,  but  lam  satis- 
fied now  that  the  best  never  satisfies  the  ill-disposed, 
and  the  well-disposed  are  always  contented.  So  good- 
by  sensitiveness  and  good  day  to  malcontents."  And 
he  thought  he  had  framed  a  new  philosophy,  but  it 
was  only  the  old  maxim  of  Christ,  the  maxim  which 
has  consoled  every  worried  soul  for  two  thousand  years : 
"sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof." 

All  this  was  the  sudden  development  which  Rome, 
the  eternal,  the  all-patient,  brought  to  him.  But  the 
fruits  which  budded  forth  so  suddenly  at  the  warm 
infusion  of  a  stronger  affection  for  the  Vicar  of  Christ 
were  in  reality  slowly  enlarging  during  the  years  of 
his  priesthood  by  the  constant  assimilation  of  that 
other  sap  which  runs  through  the  vine  of  the  eternal 
priesthood — obedience  and  reverence  and  affection  for 
his  own  bishop. 

He  had  learned  to  obey;  therefore  he  was  placed 
in  command.  He  had  learned  to  serve;  therefore  he 
might  be  entrusted  with  authority.  Cor  unum  et 
anima  una.  He  had  preserved  the  unity  of  charity 
and  reverence  for  his  own  bishop;  therefore  he  was 
only  sure  to  grow  in  these  sentiments  toward  the 
Universal  Bishop  when  he  himself  should  be  raised  to 
the  episcopate.  He  had  been  a  faithful  son;  therefore 
he  would  be  a  wise  father  to  his  own  spiritual  children 
and  a  docile  son  still  to  his  mother,  the  Church. 

Less  than  two  short  years  he  reigned,  but  God  found 
him  worthy.  He  had  taken  up  bis  new  honors  without 
pride;  he  had  laid  them  down  without  regret.  They 
were  not  his;  they  were  the  Church's;  he  gave  them 
back  unsullied  for  another  to  wear ;  to  him  they  were 
only  the  livery  of  holy  service,  but  to  his  dying  breath 
he  was  true  to  the  duty  they  imposed — he  prayed  for 


398  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

his  beloved  priests  .and  the  people  committed  to  them. 
"I  hope  the  diocese  will  remember  her  duty  till  another 
comes  in  my  place."  These  were  the  words  almost 
the  last  on  his  lips — the  last  message  he  sent  to  me. 
Faithful  to  the  last — true  shepherd  of  his  flock — then 
came  the  end. 

Peace  faithful  servant — rest  young  soldier — God  will 
hear  your  prayers.  Rest,  valiant  and  young;  your 
holy  death,  calm  in  the  awful  agony,  confident  that  you 
had  done  your  best,  will  do  even  more  than  a  long  life. 
God  has  spared  you  much  which  most  of  us  must  bear 
— the  wounds  of  injustice,  the  scars  of  the  long  contest, 
the  weariness  of  hard-fought  battles  to  keep  the 
strength  of  unity. 

Rest,  then,  in  the  union  of  heart  to  heart  and  mind 
to  mind  with  Christ — and  pray  that  your  priests  and 
people  may  also  realize  that  perfect  unity  which  the 
Church  commands,  that  right  and  truth  may  come  to 
all,  Cor  unum  et  anima  una,  until  she  sends  another  to 
sit  upon  the  throne  now  vacant — until  once  more  out 
of  eternity  comes  the  joyful  welcome,  "  A.d  multos 
annos,"  the  same  voice  which  has  called  out  to  you 
"Ad  annos  aeternos." 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  399 

TRIBUTES  FROM  THE  PRESS  ON  THE  DEATH 
OF  BISHOP  DELANY. 

THE    UNION,     MANCHESTER. 

For  many  ages  and  among-  distant  peoples  the  broken 
column  has  been  the  accepted  and  expressive  symbol 
of  unfinished  work,  of  disappointed  hopes,  of  frustrated 
endeavor.  That  life  is  uncertain,  that  the  strong-  and 
the  weak  alike  hold  it  only  as  by  a  slender  thread, 
is  evident  in  everyday  experience  and  is  known  by  all 
men.  Yet  there  are  times  when  that  which  is  known 
and  familiar  seizes  our  surprised  attention  as  something1 
wholly  new.  That  all  men  must  die  is  a  universally 
accepted  proposition;  but  that  Bishop  Delany,  so  young, 
so  strong,  so  recently  come  into  the  broad  field  of  his 
life  work,  should  die  so  soon,  could  scarcely  have  oc- 
curred to  anyone.  The  news  of  his  critical  illness 
came  to  thousands  as  something  strange,  startling  in 
its  unexpectedness,  and  to  not  a  few  his  death  will 
seem  as  something  that  can  hardly  be. 

Bishop  Delany  will  be  mourned  throughout  his  dio- 
cese by  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  He  was 
already  widely  known  and  universally  esteemed.  Al- 
though the  youngest  bishop  in  the  United  States  at 
the  time  of  his  consecration,  less  than  two  years  ago, 
he  entered  upon  the  duties  of  the  high  position  fully 
equipped  for  its  responsibilities.  The  enthusiasm  of 
youth  was  in  him,  combined  with  a  clear  judgment 
and  a  sound  understanding.  He  felt  deeply  that  there 
was  a  great  work  before  him,  but  he  felt  also  that 
there  was  time  in  which  to  do  it  well  —  that  he  might 
build  broadly  and  without  haste,  albeit  at  the  same 
time  without  rest.  Those  who  knew  him  intimately 
know  how  calmly  he  planned  great  and  enduring  work 
in  many  lines,  not  for  his  own  glory  or  advantage, 
but  for  the  cause  to  which  he  had  consecrated  his  life 


400  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

and  all  his  powers,  for  the  welfare  of  his  people,  for 
help  to  the  needy  and  distressed,  for  the  strengthen- 
ing- of  faith  among*  men.  He  was  not  lifted  up  with 
vain  pride  by  his  advancement,  but,  calmly  conscious 
of  his  physical  and  mental  strength,  he  gratefully 
welcomed  the  opportunity  for  usefulness  which  came 
to  him,  as  a  strong  man  rejoices  to  run  a  race. 

John  B.  Delany  was  lovable  as  a  man,  a  genial  com- 
panion, generous,  whole-souled  and  clean;  as  a  priest 
he  was  faithful,  earnest,  hard-working,  and  exception- 
ally capable;  as  a  bishop  he  was  dignified,  as  became 
his  position,  but  approachable,  sympathetic,  and  help- 
ful. His  death  is  a  heavy  loss  to  the  community  in 
which  he  lived  and  to  the  State  at  large,  little 
less  than  to  the  Church  of  which,  here  in  New  Hamp- 
shire, he  was  the  spiritual  head. 

THE   MIRROR,    MANCHESTER. 

It  is  but  two  and  a  half  years  since  the  beloved  and 
reverenced  Denis  M.  Bradley,  architect  and  builder  of 
the  Catholic  diocese  of  New  Hampshire  and  its  first 
Bishop,  was  called  to  his  eternal  reward  by  the  Father 
he  had  served  with  such  fidelity  and  efficiency.  And 
now  John  B.  Delany,  who,  after  nine  months  of  careful 
investigation  and  consideration,  was  adjudged  by  those 
having  the  selection  the  most  worthy  and  capable  of 
the  many  who  were  eligible,  was  chosen  his  successor, 
has  been  stricken  down,  and  his  people  are  again 
prostrate  under  the  dispensation  of  an  inscrutable 
Providence. 

In  the  prime  of  life,  in  full  possession  of  mental 
and  physical  powers,  at  the  threshold  of  what  to  human 
intelligence  promised  to  be  a  long  and  useful  career 
a  week  ago,  he  has  passed  away. 

To  what  eminence  he  would  have  attained,  what 
work  he  would  have  accomplished,  what  measure  of 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  401 

wisdom,  sagacity,  and  success  he  would  have  demon- 
strated, how  fully  he  would  have  illustrated  the 
example  and  teachings  of  the  lamented  Bradley  if  he 
had  been  spared,  cannot  be  said.  He  had  just  begun 
the  work  to  which  he  had  been  consecrated  by  his 
Church  and  had  consecrated  himself,  but  we  know 
that  he  brought  to  it  great  learning,  perfect  devotion, 
sleepless  care,  tireless  industry,  and  great  courage. 
His  plans  for  the  future  were  broad  and  far  reaching. 
They  involved  great  labor  and  expense  for  the  benefit 
of  a  diocese  much  larger  than  the  present,  to  supply 
the  spiritual  and  temporal  needs  of  many  more  than 
the  100,000  now  enrolled  as  Catholics  in  New  Hampshire. 
They  were  not  only  for  the  propagation  of  his  reli- 
gion but  for  charity,  education,  and  all  the  agencies 
by  which  the  world  is  advanced.  They  were  not  only 
for  the  upbuilding  and  advancement  of  the  Church, 
but,  as  he  saw  it,  for  the  good  of  the  State.  And 
for  their  development  he  relied  with  perfect  confi- 
dence, as  he  had  a  right  to,  upon  the  zealous,  con- 
stant, and  liberal  support  of  all  his  communicants. 

Nor  did  he  in  forecasting  a  great  future  forget  or 
neglect  the  duties  of  the  present.  By  day  and  by 
night,  by  example  and  admonition  and  entreaty  and 
advice  he  taught  his  people  how  to  walk  in  the  paths 
of  sobriety,  moderation,  industry,  and  enlightenment, 
which  he  believed  led  to  contentment  and  happiness 
here  and  reward  hereafter. 

He  broadened  as  he  progressed.  Contact  with  those 
of  other  denominations,  experience  with  affairs,  famili- 
arity with  business,  made  him  more  and  more  prac- 
tical, and  were  steadily  winning  public  confidence. 
In  general  estimation  he  was  a  larger,  more  resource- 
ful, more  practical  man  when  he  died  than  he  was  two 
years  before,  and  he  goes  hence  to  the  Great  Beyond 
sincerely  mourned  by  people  of  all  denominations. 


402  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

CONCORD  EVENING   MONITOR. 

By  the  death  of  Bishop  John  B.  Delany  the  diocese 
of  Manchester  is  again  widowed,  to  use  the  striking 
phrase  which  Bishop  Delany  himself  uttered  upon 
the  death  of  his  predecessor.  New  Hampshire  has 
met  a  great  loss  in  the  sudden  ending  of  this  sturdy 
and  scholarly  life,  about  which  centered  so  many 
hopes  and  so  much  pride.  Though  the  years  of  his 
episcopate  were  less  than  two,  Bishop  Delany  had 
already  demonstrated  a  remarkable  grasp  upon  the 
affairs  of  his  diocese,  and  was  carrying  forward  suc- 
cessful plans  for  his  Church  to  a  degree  which 
promised  largely  to  enrich  the  history  of  his  admin- 
istration. Other  hands  must  now  take  up  his  tasks; 
but  loving  remembrance  will  long  exist  to  honor  the 
life  and  labors  of  the  second  bishop  of  Manchester. 

THE  DAILY  PATRIOT,    CONCORD. 

In  the  death  of  Bishop  Delany,  New  Hampshire 
loses  one  of  the  forces  that  made  for  her  best  and 
highest  interests.  He  was  a  man  universally  beloved, 
not  because  of  the  clothes  he  wore  or  the  office  he 
held,  but  because  of  the  sterling  manhood  within 
him,  because  of  his  keen  appreciation  of  human  needs, 
and  quick  sympathy  for  all  who  suffered.  To  all 
who  had  opportunity  to  realize  and  did  realize  his 
splendid  ability  and  loyalty  as  a  son  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  his  taking  away  at  this  time,  so 
suddenly,  appeals  as  a  calamity — stopped  on  the  very 
threshold  of  his  activity,  called  home  when  his  labors 
were  but  begun. 

THE  CATHOLIC  TRANSCRIPT,  HARTFORD. 

The  death  of  Bishop  Delany  is  a  heavy  blow  to  the 
Church  of  Manchester — as  heavy  as  it  was  unlocked 
for.  He  was  perhaps  the  youngest  bishop  to  be 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  403 

consecrated  in  the  United  States,  and  the  youngest 
to  die.  His  episcopate,  which  began  less  than  two 
years  ago,  promised  to  be  one  of  exceptional  length 
because  of  his  comparative  youth  and  his  apparently 
robust  constitution. 

In  his  death  a  real  luminary  of  the  Catholic  Church 
in  New  England  has  been  extinguished.  He  had 
ability  and  industry,  high  hopes  and  noble  aspirations. 
His  priesthood — though  all  too  short — was  one  of 
unrelenting  and  successful  labor.  He  spoke  and  wrote 
with  equal  facility  and  in  several  languages.  He  was 
master  of  the  situation  whether  he  stood  in  the 
pulpit  or  sat  at  the  editor's  desk.  He  was  for  many 
years  the  chancellor  and  trusted  adviser  of  Bishop 
Bradley,  who  beheld  in  him  a  man  fitted  for  any  post. 
To-day  the  remains  of  both  lie  side  by  side. 

Bishop  Delany  had  hardly  time  to  accomplish  great 
things  in  the  episcopate,  but  his  whole  life  was  one 
of  absorbing  zeal.  His  experience  as  chancellor,  as 
missionary,  and  as  editor,  gave  him  an  exceptional 
insight  into  the  requirements  of  his  office,  and  he  was 
most  ideally  equipped  for  the  great  work  which  the 
Lord  required  of  him. 

He  was  the  founder  of  The  Guidon,  a  periodical 
which  is  read  with  respect  and  whose  opinions  are 
valued  all  over  the  country.  He  did  excellent  work 
as  the  guiding  spirit  of  this  magazine.  On  his  recent 
visit  to  Hartford  he  unfolded  his  project  of  making 
this  meritorious  publication  a  weekly,  and  under  his 
sagacious  direction  the  enterprise  was  bound  to 
succeed.  He  did  not  live  to  fulfill  his  purpose,  and 
the  cause  of  Catholic  journalism  loses  heavily  in  his 
death. 

Those  who  knew  Bishop  Delany  intimately  predicted 
for  him  a  notable  career  in  the  episcopacy.  They 


404  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

conceded  him  fine  judgment,  zeal,  singleness  of  pur- 
pose, indomitable  energy,  high  ideals,  and  unbounded 
enthusiasm.  He  was  a  man  of  forceful  character, 
independent  and  outspoken — a  man  of  intellect,  of 
heart,  and  of  kindly  human  instinct. 

The  Catholic  people  of  the  diocese  of  Manchester 
are  entitled  to  the  sympathy  of  the  religious-minded 
everywhere.  Death  was  jealous  of  their  leader,  and 
did  them  grievous  wrong  in  abbreviating  a  career  so  full 
of  promise.  There  seems  to  be  wanton  prodigality  in 
his  taking-off.  This  prodigality,  strange  to  say,  is 
frequently  to  be  met  with  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord. 
The  Lord  makes  use  of  the  best  instruments  and 
casts  them  carelessly  aside,  as  if  they  were  but 
heedless  trifles  and  as  if  to  teach  audacious  man 
that  the  Almighty  has  no  need  of  his  gifts.  One 
thing,  however,  is  certain — Bishop  Delany  labored 
during  the  brief  years  allotted  to  him  with  earnest- 
ness and  with  fruit.  Wise  men  were  quick  to  detect 
his  merit,  and  his  promotion  at  a  very  early  age  to 
the  burden  of  the  episcopate  was  a  recognition  of 
demonstrated  ability  and  exceptional  worth. 

THE  MESSENGER,    WORCESTER. 

The  death  of  Rt.  Rev.  John  B.  Delany,  Bishop  of 
Manchester,  which  is  felt  as  a  personal  loss  by  every- 
one who  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his  acquaintance,  is 
peculiarly  sorrowful  in  that  his  life  ended  at  the  very 
beginning  of  the  great  work  which  lay  before  him, 
in  his  youth  and  apparent  strength.  He  was  one  of 
the  youngest  of  bishops  and  one  of  the  very  best  of 
men.  Worcester  shares  with  Manchester  and  Lowell, 
his  home,  in  their  deep  sorrow,  for  here,  too,  he  was 
widely  known  and  greatly  beloved,  long  before  his 
elevation  to  the  holy  office  of  bishop. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  405 

Those  who  remember  John  Bernard  Delany  while 
he  was  a  student  at  Holy  Cross,  recall  a  modest  and 
devout  young-  man,  devoted  to  his  studies  and  a 
model  in  every  way  to  other  students.  He  had  marked 
ability,  and  it  was  early  seen  that  he  would  become 
a  leader  in  the  work  of  the  Church.  He  never  courted 
popularity,  but  it  came  to  him  naturally,  and  there 
was  no  student  who  did  not  hold  him  in  the  highest 
respect.  The  early  predictions  were  fulfilled  when 
he  became  a  priest,  and  it  was  not  a  surprise  when, 
at  a  comparatively  youthful  age,  he  was  appointed 
and  consecrated  bishop. 

His  nature  was  genial,  his  mind  was  hopeful,  and 
his  heart  beat  strong1  for  humanity.  That  he  should 
be  called  away  at  such  a  time  is  doubly  afflicting, 
but  it  is  the  old  doctrine  of  the  Church  that  in  the 
midst  of  life  we  are  in  death.  God  has  called  him 
to  his  reward,  but  the  sorrow  is  relieved  by  every 
consolation  that  He  gives  in  return  a  noble  spiri- 
tual life. 

THE  TELEGHAPH,    NASHUA. 

The  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  New  Hampshire 
suffers  a  distinct  loss  in  the  death  of  Rt.  Rev.  John 
B.  Delany,  Bishop  of  the  Manchester  diocese.  Twenty- 
one  months  ago  he  was  appointed  in  charge  of  the 
diocese  of  Manchester,  succeeding  the  late  Bishop 
Denis  M.  Bradley.  Bishop  Delany  was  the  second 
clergyman  to  be  elevated  to  the  bishopric  of  this 
State  since  the  establishment  of  the  Manchester 
diocese. 

In  the  prime  of  manhood,  and  with  many  years  of 
usefulness  ahead  of  him,  the  untimely  death  of  Bishop 
Delany  is  a  great  loss  to  the  Catholic  Church  in  this 
State.  He  had  made  a  wide  acquaintance  during  his 


406  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

years  of  residence  in  this  State,  and  was  esteemed  by 
Catholics  and  non-Catholics  alike.  Prior  to  being  ap- 
pointed to  the  bishopric,  he  was  editor  of  the  Guidon,  a 
diocesan  publication,  which  he  managed  with  marked 
ability.  Since  his  elevation  to  the  office  of  bishop  he 
had  performed  valuable  work  for  the  uplift  of  the 
Catholic  Church  in  New  Hampshire.  He  was  popular 
with  both  clergy  and  laity,  and  his  untimely  passing  is 
the  occasion  for  deep  and  sincere  mourning. 

DAILY  CHRONICLE,    PORTSMOUTH. 

Keenest  grief  has  been  caused  by  the  death  of  Bishop 
John  Bernard  Delany.  This  grief  is  not  confined  to  the 
people  of  the  Church  of  which  Bishop  Delany  was  the 
spiritual  head  in  New  Hampshire.  Neither  is  it  con- 
fined to  this  State  nor  to  this  section.  People  in  all 
parts  of  New  England,  in  remote  sections  of  the 
country,  and  in  Europe,  heard  the  news  of  the  death 
of  the  young  prelate  with  deep  sorrow. 

Bishop  Delany  was  a  man  who  endeared  himself  to 
all  who  knew  him.  He  enjoyed  the  confidence  of 
people  of  every  faith.  Generous,  broad  minded,  faith- 
ful, and  untiring,  he  gained  the  esteem  of  all  classes. 
His  ability  was  unusual,  so  unusual  that  he  became 
the  youngest  bishop  of  the  Catholic  faith  in  America. 
The  wisdom  of  the  choice  was  proven  many  times 
during  his  short  administration  of  less  than  two 
years. 

The  death  of  Bishop  Delany  came  as  a  great  shock. 
The  shock  was  made  all  the  greater  by  the  fact  that 
strong  hope  of  his  recovery  was  entertained  as  late 
as  Saturday. 

To  Portsmouth  the  shock  of  Bishop  Delany's  un- 
timely death  is  especially  severe.  He  worked  here 
as  a  young  clergyman,  and  he  numbered  his  friends 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  407 

here  by  the  thousand.  Portsmouth  felt  that  it  was 
honored  by  his  advancement,  and  in  his  death  knows 
that  it  has  suffered  loss,  even  though  he  gave  up  his 
labors  here  years  ago  to  continue  them  in  a  wider 
field. 

Of  Bishop  Delany's  successor  it  is  yet  too  early 
to  speak.  If  the  man  who  takes  his  place,  however, 
is  his  equal  in  the  qualities  which  make  the  true 
servant  of  God  and  in  those  which  make  others  love 
and  respect  him,  no  more  can  be  asked. 

THE  SACRED  HEART  REVIEW. 

For  the  second  time  in  less  than  two  years  the 
diocese  of  Manchester,  New  Hampshire,  is  widowed. 
The  death  of  Bishop  Delany,  occurring  on  Sunday 
last,  soon  after  an  operation  for  appendicitis,  is  deeply 
deplored  not  only  among  his  own  clergy  and  people, 
but  also  among  his  non-Catholic  neighbors,  to  whom 
he  had  endeared  himself  by  his  charm  of  manner 
and  true  Christian  character.  The  fact  that  he  was 
the  youngest  member  of  the  American  hierarchy  makes 
his  death  seem  all  the  more  untimely.  But  times  and 
seasons  are  in  the  hands  of  God.  May  the  soul  of 
the  beloved  Bishop  rest  in  peace  1 

THE   CATHOLIC   SUN,    SYRACUSE.  * 

Early  last  Monday  morning,  New  Hampshire  lost 
one  of  her  most  highly  esteemed  citizens.  After  a 
struggle  lasting  four  days,  the  result  of  an  operation 
for  appendicitis,  Rt.  Rev.  John  B.  Delany,  Bishop  of 
Manchester,  passed  away  at  the  Sacred  Heart  Hospital, 
laying  down  the  cares  of  a  shepherd  within  two  years 
after  having  assumed  them. 

Throughout  the  State  the  news  came  as  a  shock  to 
both  Catholic  and  Protestant  alike.  While  it  was 


408  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

known  to  the  majority  that  the  prelate  was  critically 
ill,  many  were  of  the  belief  that  owing  to  his  fine 
physique  and  general  good  health  he  would  be  able 
to  battle  successfully  with  the  disease.  To  those  en- 
tertaining these  thoughts  the  information  came  as  a 
severe  shock. 

The  esteem  in  which  Bishop  Delany  was  held  by 
the  Catholics  of  Manchester,  among  whom  he  had 
labored  for  many  years  as  a  priest,  could  not  be 
better  shown  than  by  the  people  who  congregated  in 
front  of  the  Sacred  Heart  Hospital  when  it  became 
known  that  his  hours  were  few.  They  gathered  there 
in  great  numbers  and  sadly  awaited  the  last  words. 

On  his  death,  words  of  sympathy  began  pouring 
from  Catholic  priests  and  Protestant  ministers.  Of 
the  latter,  preachers  of  the  Methodist,  Baptist,  and 
Congregational  denominations  spoke  warmly  of  his 
efforts  for  temperance.  Mayor  Reed  of  Manchester 
declared  that  in  him  the  city  had  lost  one  of  its 
strongest  citizens. 

Bishop  Delany  was  the  youngest  bishop  in  the  United 
States,  and  was  proudly  pointed  out  by  his  admirers. 
But  forty-one  years  of  age,  a  man  who  had  taken  the 
best  of  care  of  himself  from  his  boyhood,  he  was  in 
early  middle  life,  a  vigorous,  robust  man,  and  this 
was  the  chief  source  of  hope  of  his  people  in  his 
illness. 

The  high  esteem  in  which  he  was  held  by  members 
of  the  hierarchy  was  shown  when  at  a  meeting  held 
in  Chicago  a  year  ago  he  was  elected  one  of  the  officers 
of  the  Church  Extension  Society,  which  was  formed 
for  the  further  propagation  of  the  faith  throughout 
the  South. 


OP  BISHOP  DELANY  409 

THE    REPUBLIC,     BOSTON. 

There  passed  away  on  Sunday  evening  one  of  the 
ablest  and  most  brilliant  men  in  the  hierarchy  and 
the  Church  in  general  in  America,  the  Rt.  Rev.  John 
Bernard  Delany,  Bishop  of  Manchester,  N.  H.  The 
loss  of  Bishop  Delany  will  fall  particularly  hard  upon 
New  England,  because  in  the  section  of  the  country 
where  he  worked  a  man  of  Bishop  Delany 's  peculiar 
temperament,  foresight,  caution,  and  conservatism  was 
needed  to  solve  the  problems  which  arose. 

Bishop  Delany  was  the  youngest  member  of  the 
hierarchy  in  America,  and  withal  one  of  the  sanest  and 
the  ablest.  He  did  more  to  place  the  Church  on  a 
permanent  and  satisfactory  basis  in  New  Hampshire, 
during  the  time  that  he  was  Bishop,  than  any  man 
has  ever  done  in  a  like  period.  There  was  bigness 
in  his  mind,  and  one  cannot  help  recalling  the  scheme 
and  the  rosy  future  which  he  had  mapped  out  for 
his  diocese,  without  regretting  doubly  this  sad  taking 
off.  Peculiarly  he  has  sought  to  gain  favor  for  his 
people  in  New  Hampshire,  and  he  brought  the  people 
of  that  section,  hostile  though  they  were,  to  a  real- 
ization of  the  dominant  factor  for  good  which  the 
Church  and  its  priests  were. 

His  elevation  to  higher  orders  a  few  years  ago  was 
hailed  with  delight  everywhere,  because  everywhere 
the  young  Boston  College  Bishop  had  made  a  name 
for  himself,  and  the  administration  of  affairs  in  Man- 
chester, and  in  Northern  New  England  in  general, 
which  has  featured  his  primacy,  have  reasserted  his 
noble  and  sterling  qualities. 

Few  men  could  be  so  little  spared  as  Manchester's 
primate,  and  the  Church  throughout  the  country  offers 
its  condolences  to  the  bereaved  congregation  which 
has  suffered  so  severely  in  losing  two  such  souls  as 
Bishop  Bradley  and  Bishop  Delany  within  a  few  years. 


410  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

THE  AVE   MARIA. 

"Admirable,  indeed,  were  the  words  he  spoke, 
whether  a3  preacher,  counsellor,  or  friend;  admirable 
the  works  he  accomplished  for  God's  greater  glory 
and  the  betterment  of  men;  admirable  the  writings  he 
has  left  us;  admirable  the  wise  and  prudent  decrees 
by  which  he  ...  governed  the  diocese  committed 
to  his  care.  But  more  admirable  than  all  these  were 
the  holy  life  and  death  of  the  saintly  first  Bishop  of 
Manchester."  So  wrote,  less  than  ten  months  ago,  in 
his  preface  to  the  "Life  of  Bishop  Bradley,"  that  New 
England  prelate's  successor,  the  late  Bishop  John  B. 
Delany;  and  his  discriminating  and  effectionate  tribute 
to  Manchester's  first  Bishop  summarizes  with  singular 
adequateness  his  own  beneficent,  if  all  too  brief,  epis- 
copal career. 

Consecrated  on  September  8,  1904,  Bishop  Delany 
wore  the  mitre  too  short  a  time  to  do  much  more  than 
give  promise  of  the  character  that  would  stamp  his 
administration;  but  that  promise  was  both  abundant 
and  distinguished.  Only  forty-one  years  of  age  when 
death  came  to  him  so  unexpectedly  on  the  llth  inst., 
the  late  Bishop  had  attained,  as  chancellor  of  the 
diocese,  as  missionary,  and  as  editor  of  the  Guidon, 
a  reputation  which  in  1904  made  his  appointment  as 
Bishop  Bradley 's  successor  quite  a  matter  of  course; 
and  the  extraordinary  demonstrations  of  respect  and 
affection  that  marked  his  consecration  in  that  year 
find  their  sequel  and  complement  in  the  wave  of 
genuine  sorrow  that  has  followed  the  announcement 
of  his  apparently  premature  decease.  R.  I.  P. 

THE  PILOT. 

The  death  of  the  Right  Reverend  John  Bernard 
Delany,  D.  D.,  second  Bishop  of  Manchester,  N.  H., 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  411 

on  June  11,  in  the  flower  of  his  manhood,  has  stricken 
with  grief,  almost  with  dismay,  not  only  his  own 
flock,  but  the  whole  Church  in  New  England.  His 
last  illness  was  but  of  a  few  days'  duration ;  and 
although  it  was  grave  from  the  start,  his  youth  and 
vigor  gave  cause  for  hope,  and  less  than  twenty-four 
hours  before  his  death,  the  physicians  in  attendance 
had  sent  out  a  cautious  word  of  encouragement. 

A  cedar  is  fallen  in  Lebanon;  they  who  have  borne 
the  burden  and  the  heats  for  many  years  longer  in 
Christ's  service,  mourn  for  him  as  for  a  beloved  son ; 
while  they  who  have  lived  under  his  rule  deplore  the 
loss  of  an  ideal  leader — spiritual-minded,  singularly 
in  touch  with  his  time,  and  close  to  the  hearts  of  the 
people. 

When  less  than  two  years  ago,  he  was  chosen  to 
succeed  the  first  Bishop  of  Manchester,  the  Right 
Reverend  Denis  M.  Bradley,  D.  D.,  everyone  who  loved 
religion  rejoiced  at  the  most  happy  appointment.  Bishop 
Delany  had  not  yet  attained  his  fortieth  year ;  his 
education  had  given  him  the  best  of  the  New  World 
and  the  Old;  to  the  symmetrical  culture  of  a  typical 
school  of  the  Jesuits,  Boston  College,  had  been  added 
the  strict  ecclesiastical  training  of  the  Sulpicians  at 
their  great  central  house  in  Paris,  where  Archbishop 
Williams  and  several  other  members  of  the  episcopate 
in  New  England  had  also  made  their  theological 
studies. 

Ordained  in  1901,  the  future  Bishop,  though  a  native 
of  the  archdiocese  of  Boston,  gladly  gave  himself  to 
the  diocese  of  Manchester,  which  was  poorer  and  far 
more  in  need  of  priests  and  where  his  fluency  in  the 
French  language  made  him  especially  useful.  He  filled 
several  successive  curacies,  and  one  brief  parochial 
charge  when  he  was  recalled  to  Manchester  by  Bishop 


412  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

Bradley  to  take  the  office  of  chancellor.  His  close 
relation  to  that  holy  bishop  made  him,  so  to  speak,  the 
chief  pupil  in  a  school  of  priestly  sanctity  Here  he 
had  ever  before  him  the  example  of  limitless  devotion 
to  his  high  vocation.  Bishop  Bradley,  still  young-  him- 
self, lived  laborious  days,  was  urbane,  simple  and 
approachable  to  the  lowliest,  and  while  attentive  to  the 
smallest  detail  of  local  work,  reached  out  mightily  to 
every  movement  of  international  scope  among  Cath- 
olics, encouraging  the  activity  of  the  laity,  and  seeking 
not  only  the  spiritual,  but  also  the  intellectual  and 
material  betterment  of  his  people. 

He  found  a  kindred  spirit  in  his  Chancellor,  and 
gave  free  range  to  the  latter's  vigorous  and  militant 
spirit.  Both  men  were  of  marked  literary  bent,  and 
appreciated  profoundly  the  Apostolate  of  the  Press. 
In  1898,  with  the  encouragement  of  his  Bishop,  the 
young  Chancellor  instituted  The  Guidon,  an  excellent 
monthly  magazine,  in  which  the  sublimity  and  sweet- 
ness of  our  holy  faith  were  set  before  the  people  in 
excellent  literary  and  artistic  form.  The  doctrine 
and  discipline  of  the  Church,  their  exemplifications  in 
consecrated  and  most  useful  lives,  their  out-flowering 
in  art,  music,  and  literature — these  were  the  topics  in 
which  the  editor's  pen  was  most  happy  and  faithful. 
He  retained  the  editorship  of  this  publication  until  his 
promotion  to  the  Episcopate,  when,  of  necessity,  it  had 
to  pass  to  other  hands.  Bishop  Delany's  last  literary 
works  over  his  own  name  were  the  introduction  which 
he  contributed  to  the  recently  published  Life  of  his 
beloved  predecessor  and  his  Pastoral  in  English  and 
French  on  Christian  Education. 

But  the  duties  of  office  and  editorship  by  no  means 
exhausted  the  zeal  and  vigor  of  the  young  priest.  He 
believed  in  those  extra-parochial  organizations  of 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  413 

Catholics  which  are  now  so  greatly  advancing-  the 
Catholic  cause.  So  he  was  not  only  a  member,  but 
the  State  chaplain  of  the  Knig-hts  of  Columbus  in  New 
Hampshire.  He  believed  in  meeting  our  separated 
brethren  on  the  common  ground  of  patriotism,  citizen 
spirit,  and  public  benevolence,  so  we  find  him  on  the 
State  Board  of  Charities,  and  an  active  member  of  its 
committee  on  dependent  children.  A  good  Catholic 
American,  he  loved  the  natural  virtues  of  his  fellow 
citizens  of  other  faiths  in  the  spirit  of  Christ  to  those 
"not  of  this  fold,"  and  he  wished  to  give  them  the 
chance  to  see  the  Church  in  its  truth  and  beauty.  So 
we  find  him  at  the  head  of  the  Manchester  Apostolate, 
with  its  missionary  work  for  non-Catholics  as  well  as 
Catholics. 

He  was  devoted  to  temperance  work,  to  education  in 
all  its  grades,  including  its  post-graduate  extension  in 
the  form  of  Reading  Circles  and  the  Catholic  Summer 
School.  Almost  every  year,  he  made  a  brief  visit  to  this 
latter  institution,  giving  the  most  practical  proofs  of 
his  appreciation  of  the  work. 

Withal,  he  constantly  nourished  his  soul-life  from  the 
fountain  of  the  highest  and  purest  spirituality.  He 
had  no  dearer  charge  than  that  of  the  contemplative 
and  austere  community  of  the  Nuns  of  the  Precious 
Blood,  whose  chaplain  he  was  for  many  years.  He 
greatly  aided  their  work  in  Manchester,  and  he  helped 
them  establish  a  house  in  Havana,  Cuba.  He  was  also 
the  Diocesan  Director  of  the  League  of  the  Sacred 
Heart. 

When  the  diocese  was  bereaved  of  its  first  Bishop 
all  hearts  turned  to  the  young  Chancellor  as  his  logi- 
cal successor.  And  so  it  came  to  pass,  and  the 
mourning  was  comforted  when  on  September  8,  1904, 
Bishop  Delany  took  up  the  work  that  had  dropped 


414  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

from  the  exhausted  hands  of  his  late  beloved  chief 
and  friend.  How  confidently  the  "Ad  multos  annos  " 
was  re-echoed  in  the  hearts  of  his  priests  and  people  ! 
How  auspicious  the  feast,  the  birthday  of  the  Blessed 
Mother  of  God,  and  how  promising-  the  harvest ! 

Diocesan  necessities  made  the  young-  Bishop  begin 
his  administration  with  the  ad  limina  visit  to  Rome. 
Then  he  set  in  vigorously  to  his  diocesan  work.  It 
is  pitiful  now  to  recall  the  joy  of  his  mother  and  his 
kindred  in  the  seal  of  highest  approval  so  early  placed 
on  his  priestly  work ;  of  the  pride  of  his  Alma  Mater 
and  his  classmates,  so  enthusiastically  manifested  ; 
of  all  the  brig-ht  hopes  built  on  the  supposed  secure 
foundation  of  his  youth  and  strength. 

Full  of  the  joy  of  life,  happy  under  the  strain  of 
labor,  the  lover  of  little  children  with  a  nature  of 
simplicity  and  openness  like  unto  theirs,  his  life  is 
cut  off  while  it  was  but  beginning1.  Not  two  years 
a  Bishop,  and  only  in  the  forty-second  year  of  his 
age,  his  mortal  part  will  await  the  Resurrection  be- 
side his  predecessor,  who  after  twenty  years  in  the 
same  field  was  but  fifty-seven  when  called  to  his 
reward.  None  who  knew  Bishop  Delany  but  must 
grieve  with  his  kindred,  with  his  friends,  with  his 
flock;  and  feel,  as  it  comes  to  all  in  face  of  great  and 
inexplicable  calamity,  how  hard  it  can  be  to  say,  God's 
will  be  done ! 

A  TRIBUTE   FROM   T.    P.   MCGOWAN. 

Portland,  Me.,  June  11. 
Editor  of  the  Pilot: 

The  Catholics  of  this  city  deeply  deplore  the  death  of 
the  Rt.  Rev.  John  B.  Delany,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of  Manchester, 
N.  H.  Our  acquaintance  with  Bishop  Delany  dates 
back  to  the  days  of  Bishop  Bradley,  whom  we  had  long 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  415 

known  as  the  rector  of  the  Cathedral,  Portland,  and 
whose  career  we  were  familiar  with  during1  his  19  years 
as  Bishop  of  Manchester.  In  later  years  when  we  met 
one  we  met  the  other,  and  naturally  when  Bishop 
Bradley's  mantle  fell  on  the  shoulders  of  Bishop  Delany 
our  love  and  affection  went  out  to  him. 

Although  Bishop  Delany  was  one  of  the  most  gentle 
and  modest  of  men,  he  was  firm  and  ruled  his  diocese 
with  characteristic  wisdom  and  piety.  His  scholarship 
and  ability  made  him  widely  known,  and  at  the  time  of 
his  consecration  he  was  one  of  the  youngest  bishops  in 
the  United  States. 

On  the  occasion  of  his  first  visit  to  Rome  he  was  af- 
fectionately received  in  audience  by  Pius  X.  as  he  was 
one  of  the  first  American  prelates  appointed  by  the  new 
Pontiff. 

Bishop  Delany  established  The  Guidon,  a  monthly 
periodical,  in  1898,  which,  under  his  management  and 
editorial  control,  became  a  mag-azine  of  influence,  well 
known  throughout  New  England.  On  the  occasion  of 
Bishop  O'Connell's  installation,  in  the  Cathedral,  Port- 
land, as  third  Bishop  of  Portland  on  July  4,  1901,  Bishop 
Delany,  then  Father  Delany,  was  present  and  wrote  a 
fine  description  of  the  impressive  and  solemn  function. 
The  article  was  beautifully  illustrated  for  the  maga- 
zine, a  special  artist  being  employed,  which  showed 
commendable  enterprise  on  the  part  of  Bishop  Bradley's 
chancellor  and  private  secretary. 

The  friendship  between  Bishop  Delany  and  Coadju- 
tor Archbishop  O'Connell  was  well  known  and  of  long 
standing.  Both  were  natives  of  Lowell,  Mass.,  were 
close  companions,  and  were  graduates  of  Boston  Col- 
lege. At  the  funeral  of  Bishop  Bradley  it  was  notice- 
able the  marked  attention  and  respect  he  manifested 
for  Bishop  O'Connell. 


416  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

On  the  occasion  of  Archbishop  O'Connell's  recent 
arrival  in  Boston  from  Rome  and  Japan,  Bishop  Delany 
was  among  the  first  to  greet  the  new  Coadjutor  as  his 
steamer  reached  the  docks. 

The  unexpected  and  premature  death  of  this  prom- 
ising young  prelate  must  needs  be  a  cause  of  deep 
sorrow  to  all  the  bishops  of  New  England,  but  more 
especially  to  Archbishop  O'Connell. 

In  Portland  and  throughout  the  diocese  where  he 
was  well  known  to  many  of  the  priests  and  some  of 
the  laity  he  was  held  in  affectionate  esteem,  and  his 
demise  before  yet  completing  the  second  year  of  his 
episcopate  is  deeply  regretted. 

The  last  time  we  met  Bishop  Delany  was  at  the 
dedication  of  the  little  Church  of  Our  Lady  of  the 
Mountain,  No.  Conway,  N.  H.  On  that  occasion  he 
was  the  type  of  perfect  health  and  vigorous  young 
manhood.  We  were  also  present  at  his  consecration* 
which  took  place  in  St.  Joseph's  Church,  Manchester, 
on  Sept.  8,  1904. 

Besides  his  own  personal  charms  Bishop  Delany 's 
love  and  devotion  to  his  saintly  predecessor  endeared 
him  to  the  good  people  of  Manchester  and  the  diocese. 

It  was  his  fondest  wish  and  resolve  to  take  Bishop 
Bradley  for  his  model  and  in  so  doing  God  blessed  bis 
labors.  He  had  much  to  live  for,  for  who  that  has 
visited  Manchester  without  marvelling  at  the  numerous 
institutions  of  learning,  magnificent  churches,  schools, 
hospitals,  and  homes  for  young  and  old  and  all  that  are 
destitute — a  veritable  nursery  of  Catholicity. 

This  too  brief  tribute  from  an  old  friend,  written  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  but  too  feebly  expresses 
the  sorrow  that  the  Catholics  of  Portland  feel  for  a 
valiant  and  fearless  soldier  of  the  cross,  whose  ex- 
emplary career  will  be  fittingly  and  eloquently  told  by 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  417 

those  whose  position  entitle  them  to  pay  due  homage 
to  a  noble,  saintly  young-  Bishop. 


ST.  ANSELM'S  COLLEGE. 

The  following-  notice  was  sent  to  all  the  members 
of  the  Alumni: 

"  The  Rt.  Rev.  John  B.  Delany,  our  honorary  presi- 
dent, was  called  to  his  reward  in  the  Sacred  Heart 
Hospital  at  3.40  a.  m.  to-day.  At  that  time  the  Church 
on  this  Continent  lost  a  great  Bishop,  the  nation  a  real 
patriot,  the  State  its  best  citizen,  the  flock  a  virtuous, 
kind,  determined,  lovable  shepherd,  humanity  a  true 
benefactor,  fatherland  a  loyal  spirit,  and  the  Alumni 
its  best  friend.  Christian  charity  in  the  proposed 
orphanag-e;  Christian  education  in  the  proposed  Bradley 
memorial  high  school  are  monuments  of  purpose  and 
memory  in  his  short  episcopacy.  The  spiritual  and 
temporal  welfare  of  his  people  in  New  Hampshire  was 
a  chief  thoug-ht  in  life. 

The  following-  resolutions  have  been  adopted  by  St. 
Anselm's  College  on  the  death  of  Bishop  Delany: 

Whereas,  it  has  pleased  an  all-wise  Providence  to 
bereave  the  diocese  of  Manchester  of  its  beloved  chief 
pastor,  the  Rt.  Rev.  John  Bernard  Delany; 

Whereas,  the  faculty  and  the  students  of  St.  Anselm's 
College  lose  in  the  Bishop  a  kindliest  father,  a  most 
devoted  patron,  who,  on  many  occasions  before  and 
since  his  elevation  to  the  see  of  Manchester,  gave  them 
unmistakable  proofs  of  his  love  and  interest; 

Resolved,  That  a  solemn  Mass  of  requiem  be  sung- 
for  the  repose  of  his  soul  in  the  college  chapel  on 
Tuesday,  the  12th  inst. 

That  all  sports  arranged  to  take  place  at  the  end  of 
the  scholastic  year  be  cancelled. 


418  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

That  the  flags  on  the  College  building  be  at  half  mast 
until  after  the  day  of  his  funeral. 

That  a  delegation  of  the  faculty  and  of  the  students 
assist  at  the  solemn  obsequies  on  Thursday. 

That  to  the  end  of  the  present  scholastic  year  special 
prayer  be  daily  recited,  that  the  Almighty  may  grant 
him  eternal  peace  and  rest. 

That  the  present  resolutions  be  published  in  the 
principal  newspapers  of  the  city  of  Manchester. 


BOSTON  COLLEGE  STYLUS. 

In  the  midst  of  our  anxious  preparations  for  Com- 
mencement, the  hand  of  death,  like  a  bolt  of  lightning 
across  an  unsuspecting  sky,  came  into  Alma  Mater's 
ranks  early  on  the  morning  of  June  llth  and  snatched 
away  one  of  our  most  loyal  and  cherished  sons.  In 
the  very  vigor  of  manhood,  after  a  very  brief  illness, 
Rt.  Rev.  John  B.  Delany  died  at  3.40  a.  m.  on  the 
morning  of  June  11.  The  cause  of  his  death,  as  an- 
nounced by  the  famous  Dr.  Richardson  of  Boston, 
was  acute  appendicitis,  complicated  by  peritonitis. 

A  week  before  his  death  Bishop  Delany  gave  symp- 
toms of  his  disease,  but  he  did  not  cease  from  his 
episcopal  duties;  he  administered  confirmation  on  the 
afternoon  of  Pentecost,  June  3d.  On  the  following 
Thursday  the  expert  Dr.  Maurice  Richardson  per- 
formed the  operation,  but  the  disease  had  progressed 
too  far  to  give  any  hope  of  recovery. 

Up  to  Sunday  evening  Bishop  Delany  retained  con- 
sciousness and  to  the  edification  of  all  who  called  on 
him  he  cheerfully  bore  his  suffering.  Towards  mid- 
night he  lost  consciousness  and  at  3.40  o'clock  on 
Monday  morning  he  passed  peacefully  away. 

"  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord  *  *  *  *  " 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  419 

Bishop  Delany  was  born  in  Lowell,  August  9,  1864. 
After  early  school  work  he  went  to  Holy  Cross  College 
for  two  years  and  then  came  to  Boston  College,  grad- 
uating here  in  1887. 

He  then  entered  the  seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  Paris, 
and  on  May  23,  1891,  he  was  ordained  to  the  priesthood 
by  Cardinal  Richard. 

He  then  began  his  priestly  work  in  the  Manchester 
diocese  and  on  the  death  of  Bishop  Bradley  he  was 
appointed  his  successor  and  on  September  8,  1904,  he 
was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Manchester. 

BOSTON  COLLEGE  STYLUS. 

On  the  occasion  of  the  first  anniversary  Mass  on 
June  11  for  our  beloved  alumnus,  the  late  Rt.  Rev. 
John  B.  Delany,  '87,  The  Pilot  had  these  worthy 
paragraphs : 

Great  and  good  men  never  wholly  die.  Their  names 
and  deeds  are  written  upon  hearts  in  ineffaceable 
characters,  more  permanent  than  those  chiselled  on 
monuments  of  stone.  Though  at  the  time  of  his 
sudden  and  universally  regretted  passing  away,  the 
most  beautiful  tributes  that  could  be  written  or  spoken 
were  given  to  Bishop  Delany,  still,  in  the  past  twelve 
months,  the  story  of  his  noble,  zealous  life,  and  the 
example  of  his  heroic,  saintly  death  have  been  worthy 
subjects  of  admiration  and  edification  all  through  the 
entire  country.  Such  a  life  is  a  great  gift  to  humanity 
and  remains  as  an  imperishable  memorial  to  posterity. 

Bishop  Delany  was  a  man  of  the  deepest  sympathy, 
of  the  happiest  and  kindliest  nature,  of  the  rarest 
sweetness  and  strength  of  character  combined  with  an 
energy  and  earnestness  of  faith  and  piety  that  made 
him  beloved  and  revered  by  all  who  knew  him.  He 
was  a  staunch  champion  of  education  and  of  Catholic 


420  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

literature,  an  ideal  priest,  a  model  bishop,  a  brave  and 
fearless  leader,  a  kind  and  generous  father,  a  true 
and  loyal  friend.  No  one  ever  went  to  him  in  sorrow 
without  receiving  comfort  and  consolation.  No  one 
ever  asked  his  advice  without  obtaining  help  and  as- 
sistance, for  his  charity  was  Christ-like,  ceaseless  in 
its  duration,  and  boundless  in  its  extent. 

THE  PILOT. 

It  was  natural  that  the  Benedictines  of  St.  Anselm's 
College,  Manchester,  the  Knights  of  Columbus  and 
various  other  Catholic  organizations,  the  Alumni  of  St. 
Joseph's  High  School,  and  the  children  of  all  the 
Catholic  schools  should  honor  the  memory  of  the 
lamented  Bishop  Delany  by  special  Masses,  by  meet- 
ings and  resolutions.  But  that  the  Protestant  clergy 
individually,  and  the  members  of  so  large  a  body 
collectively  as  the  Ministerial  Association  in  session 
at  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  building  after  the  Bishop's  death 
should  so  heartily  record  their  appreciation  of  the 
life  and  work  of  the  departed  is  a  splendid  proof  of  the 
passing  of  bigotry  and  the  power  of  a  devoted  church- 
man by  his  example  and  his  speech  to  promote  the 
cause  of  Christian  unity. 

THE  GUIDON. 

The  Guidon  has  lost  its  Father.  Bishop  Bradley 
had  twice  before  seen  the  failure  of  a  Catholic  journal 
founded  under  his  auspices.  A  third  time  he  proposed 
the  undertaking,  and  entrusted  one  of  his  priests,  the 
Rev.  John  B.  Delany,  with  the  task.  He  accepted  it, 
and  was  left  entirely  to  his  own  resources  to  carry 
it  out.  The  objectors  among  the  clergy  were  many, 
the  writer  among  the  number.  We  could  offer  him 
no  encouragement;  no  hope  of  success.  Some  weeks 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  421 

after  the  clergy  were  surprised  to  receive  in  the  mail 
the   first  number  of    the   Guidon,  and  a  mighty  fine 
magazine  it  was,  well  edited,  artistic,  and  printed  by 
the  best  company  in  the  State.  The  man  that  produced 
this  first  effort  was  persistent,  bound  to  win  his  point 
in  face  of  all  obstacles.      The  magazine  continued   to 
appear.     We  were  forced  to  admire  the  pluck  of  its 
editor  and  sympathize  with  him  on  the  early  day  we 
set  for  the  obsequies  of  the  magazine.     By  and  by  its 
importance  dawned  on  us  when  such   secular  papers 
as  the  New  York  Sun,  the  Boston  Herald,  reprinted 
the  editorials  of  the  Guidon  as  approved,  sensibly-put, 
statements  on  Catholic  subjects.     They  were  largely 
quoted   by  discriminating  Catholic    journals.     ''''Nemo 
propheta  in  patria  sua"  was  verified.     Then  the  clergy 
interested    themselves    when    their    favorite    daily  or 
magazine    had    pointed   out    the    good   things   of    the 
Guidon  to  them.     The  subscription  price  of  the  Guidon 
was  fifty  cents  a  year  and  the  sale  price  five  cents  a 
copy.     That  was  not  even  paying  expenses.     Father 
Delany  knew  this,  took  the  risk  in  order  to  introduce 
the  magazine  to  the  public.     He  was  editor,  business 
manager,  and  solicitor  of  articles  to  be  printed,  with- 
out pay.     Fortunately  some  of  the  best  writers  of  the 
country  were  his  personal  friends,  and  lent  their  aid. 
Everyone  knows  that  the  subscription  list  of  a  maga- 
zine is  a  drop  in  the  bucket  for  its  support.     He  en- 
larged the  magazine,  hired,  at  a  good  salary,  an  ad- 
vertising agent,  and  increased  the  price  of  subscrip- 
tions   to    one    dollar    a    year   and    ten   cents   a   copy. 
Later   a   stock    company,    composed    of    some  of    the 
priests  of  the  diocese,  was  organized  ;   they  invested 
heavily  and  put  the  Guidon  on  a  firm  basis.     To  tell 
the  truth,  their  dividends  have  been  few  and  far  be- 
tween, and  a  large  proportion  of  those  paid  have  been 


422  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

turned  over  to  orphanages  by  the  owners  of  the 
stock. 

Then  came  the  death  of  Bishop  Bradley  and  the 
long  months  of  waiting  for  the  election  of  his  suc- 
cessor. Father  Delany's  work  as  chancellor  was  re- 
doubled, still  he  gave  his  attention  to  the  Guidon. 
No  one  could  foretell  what  the  policy  of  the  new 
bishop  in  regard  to  the  Guidon  would  be,  for  Father 
Delany  might  be  sent  to  a  parish  that  would  demand 
all  his  time,  and  he  would  be  obliged  to  give  up  the 
editorship.  To  many  minds  this  meant  the  death  of 
the  Guidon,  consequently  subscriptions  and  advertis- 
ing fell  off.  He  alone  was  undiscouraged.  Although 
a  prominent  candidate  for  the  mitre  from  the  be- 
ginning, he  never  alluded  to  the  matter,  or  tried  to 
influence  the  choice  in  the  magazine. 

Finally  the  choice  was  made.  Father  Delany  was 
named  bishop,  and  Father  Thomas  M.  O'Leary  suc- 
ceeded him  as  chancellor  and  editor  of  the  Guidon. 
Bishop  Bradley  lost  his  life  because  he  gave  personal 
attention  to  every  little  detail  of  his  diocese.  With 
the  increased  size  of  the  diocese,  that  was  too  much 
work  for  one  man.  It  was  necessary  that  some  of 
these  details  should  be  turned  over  to  an  assistant. 
Already  Father  O'Leary  was  overworked  in  the 
chancery  office,  so  the  Bishop  regretfully  asked  him 
to  give  up  the  editorship  and  devote  all  his  time  to 
more  important  work,  and  asked  the  present  editor 
to  take  up  the  task,  as  he  had  much  free  time  at  his 
disposal. 

We  assumed  the  obligation  with  overconfidence  in 
our  abilities.  We  quickly  learned  that  the  work  done 
by  our  predecessors,  with  a  multiplicity  of  other 
duties  to  be  fulfilled  at  the  same  time,  could  not  be 
done  as  well  by  us  with  more  time  in  which  to  do  it. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  423 

Our  only  instructions  were  these  :  "  Remember  that 
while  your  name  does  not  appear  on  the  editorial 
page  of  the  Guidon,  mine  does.  The  responsi- 
bility falls  on  me."  The  Bishop  rarely  inter- 
fered in  the  choice  of  matter  ;  occasionally  he 
suggested  subjects  for  articles,  and  these  were  well 
received.  At  times  we  submitted  for  his  approval 
editorials  which  handled  certain  events  in  a  severe 
manner.  "Your  notion  is  right,  but  a  more  charit- 
able way  of  handling  it  would  serve  the  purpose  and 
have  more  effect,"  would  be  his  answer.  On  another 
occasion  a  few  humorous  lines  were  printed.  We 
were  called  to  the  telephone — "I'll  have  to  get  a 
keeper  for  you.  Don't  you  know  those  lines  may 
apply  to  hundreds,  but  there  happen  to  be  a  few  of 
the  hundreds  about  here?  These  will  think  the  lines 
were  meant  for  them,  and  they  will  feel  hurt.  Don't 
hurt  anyone's  feelings." 

The  Guidon,  at  the  death  of  Bishop  Bradley,  was 
several  hundred  dollars  in  debt.  Within  a  year 
Bishop  Delany  had  paid  every  cent  of  this  indebted- 
ness, and  to-day  the  Guidon  is  not  only  out  of  debt 
but  has  money  ahead.  It  now  began  to  pay  authors 
of  ability  for  work  written  especially  for  its  pages. 
The  outlook  was  bright.  Subscriptions  were  increas- 
ing rapidly,  all  advertising  was  paid  for  in  cash. 
This  caused  the  Bishop  to  begin  a  project  he  long 
had  in  mind,  which,  in  its  memorial  editorial,  the 
Hartford  Transcript  has  made  public.  His  idea  was 
to  change  the  monthly  into  a  weekly  paper.  On  the 
occasion  of  a  visit  to  us  he  told  of  it  in  his  own 
pleasing  manner.  He  had  all  the  plans  perfected  ;  he 
had  visited  the  offices  and  talked  with  the  managers 
of  prominent  weekly  papers.  The  one  great  advan- 
tage of  the  weekly  over  the  monthly  is  that  it  handles 


424  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

questions  while  they  are  fresh,  especially  where  the 
Church  and  its  people  are  misrepresented.  All  was 
ready  for  the  realization  of  this  plan  except  the  selec- 
tion of  the  editor  and  business  manager  and  the  paid 
assistants  of  both.  For  be  it  known  that  up  to  this 
time  neither  the  editor  nor  the  manager  nor  any  per- 
manent member  of  the  staff  had  received  a  cent  of 
salary,  but  gave  their  services  in  connection  with  their 
regular  professions.  Many  of  the  best  writers  did 
the  same  because  of  their  devotion  to  Bishop  Delany. 
The  services  of  the  staff  of  a  weekly  must  demand 
the  entire  time  of  its  members,  consequently  the  in- 
creased expenses  demanded  an  increased  subscription 
price — the  regular  price  of  weeklies. 

The  Guidon  is  a  fitting  monument  to  Bishop  Delany. 
It  represents  his  courage,  his  ability,  and  his  broad 
Christian  charity. 

The  editor  now  assumes  a  privilege,  and  will  put 
aside  the  impersonal  and  say  a  few  words  about  a 
friend  whom  fifteen  years  ago,  at  the  threshold  of  the 
priesthood,  he  learned  slowly  to  admire.  When  that 
acquaintance  merged  into  friendship  I  know  not,  until 
I  found  its  tendrils  encircling  my  being.  They  were 
far  reaching.  They  bound  many  a  heart  still  closer 
to  his,  and  many,  hitherto  unknown  to  one  another, 
were  drawn  closer  together  by  the  parent  root  that 
sprung  from  a  heart  nurtured  by  the  true  love  of 
God.  That  friendship  was  capacious.  It  is  no  exag- 
eration  to  say  it  included  all  who  were  ready  to  recip- 
rocate in  kind.  No  one  may  say  "  I  was  bis  best 
friend,"  for  that  friendship  was  too  far  reaching.  Many 
may  say  "He  was  my  best  friend."  If  the  truth  be 
known,  he  was  the  intimate  friend  of  hundreds  even 
while  he  was  curate.  Strange,  too,  many  of  these  were 
not  friendly  among  themselves,  but  a  high  ideal  guided 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  425 

Bishop  Delany,  and  in  his  own  peculiar  way  he  let  it  be 
fel£  that  there  is  no  friendship  worthy  of  the  name  that 
does  not  bind  one  and  all  in  true  Christian  charity.  It 
was  a  nuisance  to  go  walking1  with  him.  The  walk  was 
interrupted  every  few  minutes  for  a  chat  with  this  one 
or  that,  unknown  to  me  or  perhaps  disliked  by  me.  Or 
else  it  was  :  "  Here  lives  X.  Y.  Z.  Let  us  drop  in  and 
see  him.  Don't  know  him?  Well,  you  will  meet  a 
mighty  fine  fellow."  He  often  corrected  me  when  I  re- 
lated acts  done  against  me  by  others.  No  matter  how 
serious  they  were  he  could  find  an  excuse  for  the  third 
party,  and  would  say  :  "  Oh,  you  see  calamity  ahead 
when  no  one  else  does.  I'm  sure  that  fellow  has  the 
highest  regard  for  you,  or  is  misinformed  by  gossip- 
ers."  And  I  afterwards  found  out  that  when  the  third 
party,  regarding  him  as  a  personal  friend,  said  practi- 
cally the  same  thing  to  him,  he  was  given  the  same 
answer. 

Bishop  Delany  was  a  very  human  being,  yet  withal  a 
very  saintly  man.  He  asked  me  once  to  read  a  series  of 
41  Lives  of  the  Saints"  recently  published,  which  omit- 
ted many  silly  things  of  holy  people  that  existed  in  the 
minds  of  former  biographers,  but  in  this  series  showed 
how  they  were  ordinary  men  in  their  everyday  inter- 
course with  men  ;  how  they  acted  as  men  and  not  as 
people  of  an  impossible  world,  and  he  told  me  to  select 
some  of  these  for  publication  in  the  Guidon.  He  was  a 
most  sociable  companion ;  he  enjoyed  fishing,  with  the 
keen  pleasure  of  boyhood,  yet  often  such  a  trip  was 
planned  to  lure  a  companion  away  from  the  humdrum 
round  of  life.  Since  his  death  the  accumulation  of  anec- 
dotes tell  that  at  all  times  he  was  the  man  of  God.  In 
the  story  of  his  life  the  proof  of  this  is  nicely  told.  He 
would,  even  when  bishop,  accept  without  rebuke  the 
kindly  criticisms  offered  by  others,  who  often  judged 


426  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

without  a  knowledge  of  the  facts.  He  was  a  very  deter- 
mined man,  many  called  him  obstinate.  He  was  care- 
ful in  his  decisions,  many  of  these  the  results  of  years 
of  observation,  yet  there  were  some  who  said  he  was 
impulsive  in  his  judgments. 

In  the  early  days  of  our  priesthood  I  enjoyed  the 
benefit  of  his  criticism  and  did  not  hesitate  to  respond 
in  kind.  We  would  argue  and  often  disagree  entirely, 
giving  our  candid  opinion  of  each  other's  common 
sense.  If  he  thought  he  was  right  he  would  not  give 
in.  In  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  he  was  right;  but 
if  he  found  out  that  he  was  mistaken  he  never 
hesitated  to  admit  it  and  express  wonder  that  he 
could  not  have  seen  that  before.  He  was  the  soul  of 
honor,  and  a  man  of  that  stamp  has  difficulty  to 
restrain  himself  when  the  hypocrite  poses  as  virtuous. 
Rarely  did  he  hesitate  to  tell  such  a  person  what  he 
thought  of  him. 

He  early  began  to  carry  out  plans  that  stirred  up 
the  charge  of  being  a  man  of  hasty  judgment,  but  he 
knew  the  needs  and,  better  than  anyone  else,  the 
resources  of  the  diocese.  He  paid  no  attention  to 
the  criticism,  but  planned  ahead  for  the  future,  for 
he  was  perfectly  aware  to  what  extent  he  could  go. 
He  felt  heavily  the  responsibility  placed  on  him,  and 
never  took  an  important  step  without  long  and  serious 
thought.  This  was  hinted  at  in  a  letter  he  wrote 
me.  I  had  discovered  a  rather  witty  article  for 
publication  in  the  Guidon.  I  hesitated,  and  sent  it  to 
the  Bishop  for  his  approval.  He  answered  in  a 
characteristic  way:  "By  all  means  publish  it.  What's 
going  to  happen?  You  getting  scrupulous?  I  think  it 
must  be  that,  with  others,  you  realize  that  position 
brings  with  it  responsibility." 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  427 

One  more  little  point  I  give  from  the  inner  sanctuary 
of  friendship  to  illustrate  his  thoughtfulness  and 
kindness.  One  Friday  night,  May  18th,  he  returned 
from  a  long  series  of  confirmation  administrations.  He 
learned  my  father  was  critically  ill.  About  ten  that 
evening  he  went  to  the  home  to  express  his  sympathy 
for  the  man  he  had  known  well  since  he  came  to 
Manchester.  He  objected  to  seeing  the  patient  be- 
cause he  thought  at  that  late  hour  a  visit  would  do 
harm.  However,  he  yielded,  and  found  him  bright 
and  cheerful,  and  he  cheered  him  still  more.  For  a 
few  moments  he  talked  in  his  own  pleasant  way  to 
the  family.  My  father  died  suddenly  the  next  Monday, 
and  the  last  public  act  Bishop  Delany  performed  out- 
side his  regular  episcopal  duties  was  to  attend  the 
funeral  and  deliver  the  sermon. 

Twenty-one  months  is  sufficient  only  for  a  great 
man  to  show  his  ability  to  wear  the  mitre.  He 
visited  Rome  at  the  invitation  given  by  the  Supreme 
Pontiff  to  all  bishops  to  attend  the  fiftieth  anniversary 
of  the  publication  of  the  dogma  of  the  Immaculate 
Conception.  There  he  was  privileged  to  hear  from 
one  of  the  heads  of  the  Propaganda  that  an  event  in 
his  case  was  so  unusual  that  it  had  perhaps  never 
happened  before  in  the  case  of  an  American  bishop. 
Not  one  letter  had  been  received  at  the  Propaganda 
that  wounded  in  the  least  his  personal  character  or 
denied  his  ability  to  be  a  worthy  leader  of  his  flock. 
Another  joy  was  in  store  for  him.  Bishop  Delany 
knew  that  no  bishop  is  the  unanimous  choice  of  all, 
but  realized  that  all  are  guided  by  their  honest  con- 
victions. He  respected  as  a  criticism  guided  by  the 
highest  motives  the  actions  of  those  who  thought  he 
could  not  fulfill  the  duties  of  his  office.  If  any  differ- 
ence was  shown  by  him,  it  was  not  any  effusive  treat- 


428  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

ment  of  these  priests,  but  a  more  delicate  manifesta- 
tion of  his  friendship  for  them.  He  was  a  sensitive 
man  and  he  felt  sympathy  for  those  who  did  not 
secure  the  man  of  their  choice.  He  had  little  reason 
for  that  over-sensitiveness.  In  the  brief  time  given 
him,  he  proved  his  ability,  his  love,  and  his  friend- 
ship. The  ones  who  felt  most  keenly  his  death,  and 
who  gave  him  their  best  services,  were  those  who 
hesitated  to  place  the  diocese  in  his  hands,  yet  none 
more  closely  shared  a  friendship  that  came  from  a 
heart  too  large  to  be  exclusive,  too  noble  not  to  strive 
to  gather  everyone  in  that  greater  friendship  that 
joins  all  in  perfect  union  of  the  love  of  God.  May 
God  grant  him  eternal  rest. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  429 


TO  RT.  REV.  JOHN  B.  DELANT,  D.  D. 

SEPTEMBER  8,  1904. 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes  are  with  thee.      Art  not  thou 
A  king  ?     Thy  hands  the  staff  of  power  hold; 
Thy  finger  rests  within  Faith's  jeweled  gold; 
The  helmet  of  salvation  on  thy  brow, 
Like  storied  knighthood's  tossing  plume,  must  now 
Be  ever  seen  by  us.     Yea,  manifold 
Thy  gifts  of  grace,    God's  glory  to  uphold, 
Thy  flock  to  lead.     Yet  while  in  trust  we  vow 

Our  faith,  we  pray — May  justice  guide  thy  hand: 
May  gentle  love  direct  thy  sandaled  feet 

To  hearts  irresolute  and  weak:   May  pride 
Be  banished  far:     May   Christlike  tones  command 
But  offner  still  may   Christlike  love  entreat: 
May  one  for  all,  and  all  for  one,    abide. 

JUNE  11,   1906. 

Our  hearts  are  rent;  our  hopes  have  jled.       The  ring, 
The  cross,   the  staff,   those  signs  of  power, 
Now  toys  of  Death  to  help  recall  the  hour 
Of  that  great  day — its  pomp,  its  pride;  to  bring 
Us  sorrowing  to  thy  tomb — bid  us  to  sing 

Thy  dirge,  to  place  on  thee  this  faded  flower 
Which  gloriously  bloomed  the  day  when  our 
Mitred  King  was  throned     'Tis  o'er.     Our  King 

Is  dead.     Long  live  the  King!    Though  many  a  year 
Be  his,  let  him  recall  those  seeds  of  love, 

Of  justice,  and  of  truth  he  sowed.   They  grew 
1o  gat  lands  which  adorned  a  brief  career, 

Whose  scent  was  wafted  to  the  throne  above. 
"God  needs  me  more."  To  God  his  spirit  flew. 

SACERDOS. 


430  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


POEMS  BY  BISHOP  DELANY. 


The  greater  number  of  the  following  verses  were  written 
while  he  was  a  student  at  Boston  College : — 

HEART  TREASURES. 

The  rhyme  of  the  heart,  though  ever  unsung, 

Is  sweeter  far  than  the  song  of  the  tongue; 

And  the  rosebud  that  died  on  the  breast  of  June 

Seems  sweeter  because  it  died  so  soon; 

And  the  sweetest  notes  of  the  singing  bird 

Are  the  half-caught  strains  from  a  distance  heard, 

So  weird  and  low,  they  come  from  afar 

As  if  heaven's  gates  were  left  ajar. 

Perhaps  this  may  answer  the  reason  why 

Those  thoughts  are  dearest  which  deepest  lie; 

For  the  balm  that  soothes  the  soul's  unrest 

Is  the  song  of  the  heart  that  is  ne'er  expressed. 

Like  a  miser  who  gloats  o'er  his  secret  store 

In  the  silence  of  midnight,  we  love  to  pour 

O'er  memory's  treasures  that  flee  vulgar  sight, 

And  hide  in  our  hearts  for  our  soul's  delight. 

There  are  names  that  sound  like  angel's  tread, 

And  echoes  of  voices  long  since  fled; 

Dear  faces  we  see  through  the  dark  cloud  of  years, 

Whose  smile  greets  our  sight  as  a  rainbow  of  tears. 

There  are  handclasps  and  greetings  we  ne'er  shall  forget 

Though  that  hand  may  be  dust  and  those  fond  eyes  be  set, 

And  the  hearts  that  quickened  at  Love's  kindly  token 

Are  stilled  in  death,  or  in  life  are  now  broken. 

There  are  hopes  that  died  like  the  stillborn  rose, 

Yet  their  early  fragrance  scents  life  to  its  close. 

All,  all  are  sweet  symphonies  never  expressed, 

The  priceless  treasures  of  every  breast; 

But  the  only  sign  the  world  may  seek 

Is  the  flash  of  the  eye  or  the  glow  of  the  cheek. 

For  the  ills  of  to-day  fond  mem'ry  supplies 

These  airy  fancies  from  Paradise. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  431 

PHANTASM A. 

There  are  names  our  lips  ne'er  mention, 

Though  they  sound  like  angels'  tread; 
There  are  tones  our  hearts  re-echo 

Of  dear  voices  long  since  fled; 
There  are  looks  of  loving  faces 

Which  we  see,  though  far  away, 
Which  we  nightly  meet  in  dreamland, 

Oft  in  busy  scenes  of   day. 
There  are  hopes  long  dead  within  us, 

Crushed  like  flowers  ere  their  bloom; 
But  the  fragrance  of  their  springtime 

Scents  the  latter  years  of  gloom. 
Only  dreams  the  Past  has  left  us — 

Memory  all  the  rest  supplies, 
Gives,  for  joys  which  Time  has  reft  us, 

A  foretaste  of  Paradise. 

CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 

Softly  as  an  angel  treads, 
Nature  her  pure  mantle  spreads, 

Feather  light,  purest  white, 

Crystal  bright,  airy  sprite, 
How  it  frolics  down  to  earth! 

Sweetly  sounds  the  vesper  bell, 
How  its  glad  notes  ever  swell! 

Through  the  stillness  of  the  air, 

List  the  iron  tongue's  glad  prayer, 
Praises  for  the  Saviour's  birth. 

Joyfully  and  solemnly,  merrily  it  rings, 

"Gloria  in  Excelsis,"  "Peace  on  earth"  it  brings. 

Gently  stealing  o'er  us  kneeling, 

At  its  pealing  solemn  feeling 
It  imparts  from  each  sweet  chord. 

Round  the  hearth  all  gather  nearer, 
Christmas  makes  the  dear  home  dearer; 

Brightest  day  of  all,  God-given, 

Earth  seems  nearer  now  to  heaven. 
All  mankind,  come  praise  the  Lord! 


432  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

CHRIST    WEPT. 

Naught  else  could  remove 

But  an  infinite  love 
The  deep  wound  of  our  sin's   poisoned  spear 

An  atonement  divine 

Was  laid  at  God's  shrine, 
When  to  earth  from  that  Eye  fell  a  tear. 

Though  a  thousand  worlds  bled, 

Through  the  years  that  have  sped, 
A  fit  retribution  to  rear 

The  blood  would  but  be 

As  a  drop  in  the  sea, 
When  weighed  before  God  with  that  tear. 

From  those  Eyes  but  a  frown, 

The  proud  angels  cast  down, 
Yet  bedewed  the  dead  Lazarus'  bier, 

Jesus'  tear  as  it  fell 

Broke  the  bondage  of  hell, 
Heaven's  justice  could  ask  but  a  tear. 

TOO  LATE. 

Poor  broken  flower, 

Whose  is  the  power 
To  lift  thy  head  again? 

No  tear  nor  sigh 

Revives  thine  eye, 
Or  soothes  in  death  thy  pain. 

The  broken  lute 

Whose  cords  are  mute 
Is  soon  forgot  forever. 

The  rainbow's  light 

Will  ne'er  unite 
When  winds  the  storm-clouds  sever. 

That  lamp's  bright  ray 

Which  blessed  our  way 
Is  dimmed  by  sun  of  fate; 

So  worth  and  friends, 

The  light  love  lends, 
Are  prized  but  when  too  late. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  433 

OUR  OFFERING. 

Out  from  the  East  they  sought  Him 

To  make  Him  an  offering-  meet; 
Gold,   incense  and  myrrh  they  brought  Him, 

And  laid  their  gift  at  His  Feet. 

By  gold  His  Kingship  confessing-, 

The  myrrh  to  acknowledge  Him  Man; 
By  incense  His  Godhood  professing, 

Such  was  the  faithful  king's  plan. 

No  word  by  the  Child  was  spoken, 
No  message  brought  they  from  the  place, 

Yet  each  in  return  for  the  token 
Received  royal  gifts  of  grace. 

*  ********* 

We  bring  Thee  our  golden  treasure, — 

Not  much  to  worldly  eyes; 
Hast  Thou  not  another  measure 

For  that  which  worldlings  prize? 

Each  trinket  and  token  we  offer 

To  Thee  will  be  doubly  dear ; 
'Tis  out  of  our  hearts'  deep  coffer, 

Washed  pure  by  many  a  tear. 

*  *        *        *        *        *        *        *•*        * 

Take  with  this  gift,  this  treasure  trove, 

Which  to  Thy  Feet  we  bring, 
Our  faith,  our  hope,  our  loyal  love, 

O  Eucharistic  King ! 


TO  MR.  C ,  S.  J. 

In  future  years  when  turning 
Memory's  jeweled  casket  o'er, 

Turn  not  from  this  pebble  spurning 
Though  you  prize  the  jewels  more. 

Read  the  wish  that  pebble  wears 

As  the  one  this  bosom  bears. 

Through  life,  in  death,  where'er  my  way 

At  twilight's  hour,   "  Ora  pro  me." 


434  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


THE  FIRST  EASTER. 

The  third  day  came  at  length.     The  first  gray  streaks 

Of  dawn,  as  in  a  winding  sheet,  wrapt  all 

The  moveless  scene  and  lent  a  melancholy 

That  night  itself  could  not  impart.     Silent  all. 

The  herald  of  the  morning  stirred  no  feather. 

The  hoot  of  the  night  owl  was  heard  afar,  and  again 

All  nature  slept.     The  line  of  Calvary's  brow 

Remained  unbroken,  save  where  the  trees  of  death, 

Late  drenched  in  blood,  stood  black  against  the  eastern 

Sky.     The  earth  still  yawned,  and  gaping  rocks 

Revealed  the  death  throes  of  a  dying  God.     Below, 

The  city  showed  no  more  the  signs  of  life 

Than  if  were  yesterday  its  last,  and  now 

It  waited  but  for  Gabriel's  trump  to  waken 

Unto  judgment 

Upon  a  sudden,  from 

The  western  gate  emerged  a  group  of  women, 
Close  wrapped  and  in  a  mourning  garb;  and  there 
Among  the  rest  were  Magdalen  and  Mary, 
James's  mother.     No  word  was  spoken,  but  now 
And  then  a  smothered  sob,  or  a  heart-broken  sigh 
Helped  trace  their  path  which  lay  towards  Calvary's  foot. 
But  once  they  stopped  and  whispered  converse  held 
As  who  would  roll  the  stone  away.     Impatient  at 
Delay,  Magdalen  hurried  on.    Her  heart 
Outstripped  her  feet ;  her  feet  those  of  the  rest. 
Lifted  by  the  morning  breeze,  her  tresses 
Floated  wide;  her  sandaled  feet  scarce  touched, 
Or  heeded  not,  the  stony  path  she  trod, — 
And  thus  the  first,  she  came  to  where  they  laid  Him. 
When  lo  !  the  tomb  stood  open  wide,  but  black 
And  void,  no  Jesus  there!     Her  heart  stood  still. 
She  knew  not  if  she  lived,  or  cared  not,  were 
She  conscious  of  it,  so  killing  was  the  blow. 
How  she  had  wished  to  kiss  those  bruised  feet 
And  press  that  thorn-crowned  head  once  more  !    But  all 
Was  over  now,  no  consolation  left. 

The  others  came,  and,  stooping,  saw  through  their  tears 
The  empty  tomb,  and  turned  in  silent  sorrow 
From  the  place;  and  later,  John  and  Peter  came, 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  435 

With  breathless  haste,  alas !  but  to  confirm 
Their  darkest  doubts.     The  death  cloths  stained  with  blood. 
Were  all  they  found  of  Jesus  there.     Bereft 
Of  sense  from  hearts  thus  seared,  as  men  who  walk 
In  sleep,  without  a  word  they  left  the  place, 
Yet  Mary  lingered  on,  and,  bowing  low, 
Wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

At  last 

A  gentle  voice  asked,  "Why  these  tears?"     One  only 
Cry  she  had  :     "Oh,  tell  me  where  they  laid  Him." 
The  stranger,  as  in  pity  moved,  then  spoke 
The  one  word,  "Mary."     She  heard,  she  felt,  she  knew 
That  voice, — the  same  it  was  that  called  her  child, 
Her  sins  forgave, — whose  dying  accents  she 
Had  heard,  nor  hoped  in  life  to  hear  again. 
And  at  the  sound,  joy  broke  upon  that  saddened 
Heart,  as  the  sun  bursts  through  a  thunder  cloud  : 
Then,  her  whole  soul  upon  her  lips,  prone  at 
His  feet  she  fell,  and  cried,  "  Rabboni  !  " 

COME  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

A  TRANSLATION. 

Come,  Holy  Spirit,  Heavenly  Dove, 
Inflame  each  breast  with  pious  lore 

Light  of  the  world,  our  soul's  inspire. 

Come,  Father  of  the  poor  below, 
Come,  Fount  from  whom  all  blessings  flow, 
Light  of  our  life,  shape  each  desire. 

Our  Hope  on  earth,  Sweet  God  of  life, 
Our  God  above,  our  Shield  in  strife, 

Light  of  our  hearts,  lend  us  Thy  fire. 

Cleanse  Thou  each  thought  that  doth  deface, 
Make  moist  our  souls  with  floods  of  grace, 

And  heal  the  wounds  of  Sin's  dread  spear. 

Shape  all  our  thoughts  in  Virtue's  mould, 
Thy  breast  shall  save  us  from  the  cold, 

Thy  hand  our  way  make  straight  and  clear. 

Give  us  a  sevenfold  trust  in  Thee, 
From  sin  and  death  our  ransom  be, 
And  take  our  only  gift,  a  tear. 


436  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

IN    MEMORIAM. 

FR.    MCHUGH. 

We  mourn  thee  dead,  Priest  after  God's  own  heart! 
Who  knew  to  pray  as  David  prayed,  in  song. 
Thy  voice  is  stilled,  thy  prayer  unsung-  so  long, 
It  seems  an  age  since  thou  did  hence  depart. 
The  birds  and  flowers  have  come  and  gone;  the  smart 
Of  loss  still  lingers  on,  and  Still  the  wrong 
Unconquered  is,  the  feeble  'gainst  the  strong, 
And  thou,  Right's  Champion,  fallen  beneath  sin's  dart! 
The  good  St.  Francis  held  all  creatures  brothers: — 
Thou  hadst  for  all  love  tender  as  a  mother's. 
The  world  thy  temple  was,  its  dome  thy  sky, 

The  birds  thy  choristers,  thy  incense   flowers, 
The  lily's  cup  a  chalice  raised  on  high; 
Thy  offering  was— Christ's  tears,  thine  own,    and  our». 

AT  TWILIGHT. 
The  soft  winds  are  sighing, 
The  daylight  is  dying, 

The  sun  has  sunk  into  the  west, 
Like  a  Christian  soul 
On  the  way  to  its  goal 

In  the  home  of  eternal  rest. 

No  more  would  we  stay 
The  last  fleeting  ray 

That  hastens  into  the  night, 
Than  call  back  again 
To  this  valley  of  pain 
The  soul  from  its  homeward  flight. 

TO    A   LILY    ON   A   CRUCIFIX. 
vStaff  of  St.  Joseph,  lily  so  fair 
Resting  so  lightly  on  our  Lord,  where 
Sin's  heavy  cross  hath  left  its  impress, 
Touch  that  wound  lightly,  or  kissing  caress. 
Chalice  which  earth  to  the  sky  lifts  up, 
Tears  are  the  wine  of  thy  pallid  cup, 
These  and  the  tears  in  Those  upturned  Eyes 
Are  our  only  claims  on  Paradise. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  437 

IN   MEMORIAM. 
Dimidium    Met. 

REV.    EDWARD  A.    QUIRK. 

I  hang-  my  harp  by  Babylon's  wave 

And  sit  me  down  beside ; 
The  thoug-hts  and  tears  I  cannot  stay 

Flow  onward  with  the  tide. 

I  cannot  pray  thee  bear  him  back, 

(Do  streams  flow  from  the  sea?) 
But  g-uide  my  bark  to  sunny   isles 

Where  he  must  surely  be. 

A  man,   a  priest  the  world  has  lost ; 

Few  such  doth  Heaven  lend! 
Weep,   World!  but  what's  your  grief  to  mine, 

For  I  have  lost  a  Friend? 

O  sainted  spirit,  genial  soul, 

Rest  now,  thy  work  is  o'er, 
In  many  a  heart  thou  wilt  live  long, — 

In  one,  forevermore. 


ON    THE    DEPARTURE    OF    A   FRIEND. 

The  golden  rays  of  evening  tide 

Their  brightest  rubies  lent, 
To  hill  and  dale  and  brook  beside 

When  day  its  course  had  spent. 
Great  Phoebus  drew  in  purple  folds 

The  clouds  about  his  bed; 
The  rays  redeemed  the  rubies  lent, 

The  last  bright  beams  had  fled. 

And  longingly  I  watched  the  bark 

That  bore  a  friend  away, 
Nor  missed  the  light  that  from  me  sped, 

Till  darkness  followed  day. 
A  gloom  had  settled  on  my  soul, 

Night  dews  upon  my  heart; 
With  aching  eyes,  in  loneliness, 

I  watched  my  friend  depart. 


438  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

THE    GOOD    SHEPHERD. 

(Written  for  the  children  of  Hinsdale,  N.  H.,  as  an  address 
of  welcome  to  their  Reverend  Pastor  on  his  return  from  Europe.) 

We  have  heard  you  tell  the  story 

Of  a  shepherd  who  loved  his  sheep, 
And  sought  and  led  them  safely 

O'er  pathways  rugged  and  steep. 

You  told  us  how  the  shepherd 

Takes  the  little  ones  to  his  breast, 
And  seeks  out  the  weary  and  wayward 

As  the  ones  His  heart  loves  best. 

His  days  are  spent  with  watchings, 

His  nights  in  anxious  cares, 
To  keep  his  sheep  and  lambkins 

From  dangers  and  from  snares. 

When  robbers  assail  the  sheepfold 
And  the  hireling  flees  from  the  strife, 

The  good  shepherd  faces  the  danger, 
For  his  sheep  lays  down  his  life. 


We  thought  as  you  told  the  story 

Though  you  spoke  of  our  Saviour  dear, 

That  when  he  was  taken  from  us 
He  left  a  good  Shepherd  here, 

To  watch  over  us,    His  children, 

The  sheep  and  the  lambs  of  His  fold, 

To  guard  us  from  all  danger 
And  shelter  us  from  the  cold. 


These  months  we  have  missed  you,  Father, 
Missed  the  sound  of  your  gentle   voice, 

And  your  presence — a  benediction 
That  makes  our  hearts  rejoice. 

We  have  missed  you  at  the  altar 
Where  the  Lamb  of  God  is  slain; 

We  prayed  Mary,  Star  of  Ocean 
To  guide  you  home  again. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  439 

Our  wishes  and  prayers  are  answered 

And  you  are  with  us  once  more, 
And  we  thank  the  good  God  who  brought  you 

Safe  home  from  a  distant   shore. 

Your  little  lambs  bid  you  welcome, 

Our  Shepherd,  our  Father,  our  Friend; 

We  hope  and  pray,  God  helping, 
To  follow  your  lead  to  the  end. 


HYMN  TO  ST.  JOSEPH. 

(Written  in  honor  of  the  twentieth  anniversary  of  Bishop 
Bradley 's  consecration.) 

St.  Joseph,  father,  patron,  friend, 

Dispenser  of  the  Bounteous  King ! 
To  thee  in  heaven  our  thoughts  ascend, 

To  thee  on  earth  our  praises  ring. 

Guard  thou  our  Church,  our  Bishop  bless, 

Our  pastor,  parents,  teachers  all, 
Let  them,  too,  share  thy  tenderness, 

Nor  vainly  let  thy  children  call. 

To  thy  dear  charge  the  Good  God  gave 
His  household  here,  His  Church  and  Bride; 

Help  thou  the  ones  whose  souls  to  save 
Sweet  Mary  wept,  and  Jesus  died. 


THE  MEASURE  OF  OUR  LIVES. 

'Tis  not  the  weeks  and  months  and  years 
That  makes  our  lives ;  'tis  hopes  and  fears. 
Joy  is  our  daytime,  night  our  tears. 

A  man  may  live  a  lifetime 
In  the  grief  of  a  single  day, 

And  a  thousand  years  of  bliss 
Be  a  day  that  is  passed  away. 

No,  'tis  not  the  circuit  of  moon  or  sun, 
For  these  go  on  when  our  race  is  run; 
'Tis  the  heart-beat  that  tells  when  life  is  done. 


440  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

TO    FATHER    F ,  S.  J. 

Revered,  beloved,  whom  ocean  bore 

Back  to  our  midst  with  zealous  care, 
In  answer  to  our  fervent  prayer, 

We  haste  to  greet  thee  home  once  more. 

No  Caesar  now  we  hail  from  Rome, 

Who  conquers  with  a  ruthless  hand: — 
A  leader  of  a  nobler  band, 

Whose  spoils  are  souls,  we  welcome  home. 

Thou  dost  a  noble  office  hold — 
A  glory  not  of  war  or  song; 
Thy  glory  is  to  vanquish  wrong, 

And  bring  the  lost  ones  to  God's  fold. 

Skilled  Mariner,  on  life's  dark  seas, 
Fair  Truth  is  thy  magnetic  guide, 
Bright  Faith  and  Prudence  stand  beside 

To  guard  thy  ship  from  baneful  breeze. 

Thy  words  and  deeds  with  brightness  shine, 
Thy  mild  reproach  with  love  aglow, 
Both  bring  the  proud  heart  here  below 

To  offer  incense  at  God's  shrine. 

Thy  ship  like  crested  swan  set  sail, 

And  angel  band  did  guard  thy  sleep; 
A  mighty  hand  controlled  the  deep, 

And  breezes  lent  their  mildest  gale. 

May  life  be  spared  thee  many  years 

(Thy  crown  the  more  resplendent  grows) 
With  power  to  conquer  strongest  foes 

Whom  wily  Satan  ever  rears. 

These  classic  walls  with  joy  resound, 
To  greet  thee  home  to  thy  first  born. 
In  years  no  future  eyes  shall  scorn 

A  work  whose  praise  with  thine  is  bound. 

WITH  A  CALENDAR. 
I  deem  it  not  that  I  shall  need 

This  scroll  to  claim  a  future  thought, 
Upon  thy  heart  thy  soul  shall  read 

A  brother's  name  there  fondly  wrought. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  441 

OUT    OF    THE    DEPTHS. 

Night  fell  in  the  Alpine  valley; 

Below  was  all  heavy  and  black, 
Yet  the  daylight  seemed  to  dally 

And  leave  on  the  hill  top  its  track. 

To  us,   who  look  up  from  below, 

It  seemed  that  the  skies  were  riven, 
And  the  snow-top  all  aglow 

With  a  radiance  from  heaven. 
********** 

Up  from  this  vale  of  tears, 
From  the  darkness  of  sin  and  sorrow, 

We  need  for  our  doubts  and  fears, 
This  promise  of  a  morrow. 

The  sun  is  not  lost  but  hidden, 

And  earth  is  more  than  a  clod, 
The  mountains  that  rise  up  unbidden 

May  be  pathways  that  lead  up  to  God. 

IN    MEMORIAM. 

DAVID   REGAN   DROWNED  IN    MYSTIC    POND. 

Dead?    How  strange  to  think 
That  he  whose  hand  we  lately  clasped 

Stood  on  Death's  awful  brink, 
Life's  book  is  closed,  and  judgment  passed! 

Among  his  books  he  lies  in  death 
Those  silent  friends  Death's  vigil  keep 
And  share  a  mother's  grief  nor  sleep, 

But  gaze  on  him  with  bated  breath. 

How  strange  is  spun  this  web  of  life! 

'Twixt  warp  and  woof  the  bright  threads  bind  ; 

Death's  gruesome  ones — both  fast  entwined 
Doth  set  our  souls  and  selves  at  strife. 

We  bow  beneath  the  scourging  rod, 

For  us,  not  him,  the  blow  doth  stun. 

His  honors  won,  his  lessons  done. 
Inscrutable  Thy  ways,  O  God! 


442  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

(The  following   lines   were    sent    to    Bishop    Delany    by  his 

sister  on   the  eve    of    his    ordination.      A    year    later,    on  the 

eve  of   her   religious   profession,   he   returned   the   poem   to  her 
with   his   own    verses,   entitled  "Sorer   Mea.") 

RABBONI. 
When  I  am  dying 

How  glad  I  shall  be 
That  the  lamp  of  my  life 

Has  burned  out  for  Thee. 
That  sorrow  has  darkened 

The  pathway  I  trod, 
That  thorns  and  not  roses 

Were  strewn  o'er  its  sod. 
That  anguish  of  spirit 

Full  often  was  mine 
Since  anguish  of  spirit 

So  often  was  Thine. 
My  cherished  Rabboni 

How  glad  I  shall  be 
To  die  with  the  hope 

Of  a  welcome  front  Thee  ! 

SOROR  MEA. 
On  the  eve  of  my  offering 

Thou  sent  this  to  me, 
On  the  eve  of  thy  offering 

I  return  it  to  thee, 
To  tell  thee  how  fair 

Is  the  pathway  I've  trod, 
How  sweet  'tis  to  serve 

So  good  a  good  God ! 
How  often  since  then 

Has  the  water  and  wine 
Upon  my  lips  turned 

To  His  Blood  Divine! 
So  with  thee  shall  the  tasteless 

And  bitter  be  sweet 
When  to  do  His  dear  Will 

Be  thy  drink  and  thy  meat. 
Our  cherished  Rabboni, 

How  glad  we  should  be 
To  live  or  to  die, 

When  all— all  is  for  Thee. 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  443 

TO    THE    QUEEN    OF    MAY. 

Fair  link  between  time  and  eternity, 

Upon  our  path  thy  hand  choice  blessing's  strews, 

Lend  us  thy  light  and  be  our  only  Muse 
For  thou  art  consummation  of  all  poetry. 
Thy  heart-strings  wake  angelic  symphony, 

What  better  font  of  wisdom  can  we  choose 

Than  where  the  Holy  Spirit  did  infuse 
Sublimest  Wisdom,  which  took  flesh  in  thee? 

The  spring-time  greets  thee  with  her  birds  and  flowers, 
To  thee  the  fledgling  pipes  his  first  faint  notes, 
The  year's  first  breath  of  incense  to  thee  floats. 

Permit  us  then,  to  add  our  feeble  powers, 
And  join  with  them  this  universal  lay, 

While  angels  vie  to  crown  thee,  Queen  of  May. 


TO  MY  LITTLE  SISTER  ON   HER   TENTH   BIRTHDAY. 

InJ:he  rosary  of  your  years, 

Now  you  count  one-half  a  score; 
Childhood's  spring  of  smiles  and  tears 

Soon  shall  fly  forever  more. 

Romp  and  play,  dear,  while  you  may, 
Heedless  of  Time's  quickening  flight; 

Grief  too  soon  will  cloud  your  day, 
Haste  your  morning  unto  night. 

Years  will  soon  unfold  their  store 

Rich  with  spoils  of  ages; 
Reason  bring  her  priceless  lore, 

Science  her  bright  pages. 

These  an  old  age  may  delight, 

Yet  to  what  thou  hast  are  poor. 
Will  they  bring  a  heart  so  light? 

Will  they  give  a  soul  so  pure? 

May  each  decade  ever  end  — 

"Glory  God  be  always  Thine," 
'Till  the  message  He  shall  send, 

"Share  that  glory  child  of  mine." 


444  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

REMEMBRANCE. 

In  a  lone,  bleak  wood  a  wild  rose  grew, 

No  eye  ever  saw  it.  and  no  mind  ever  knew; 

But  the  flower  was  none  the  less  as  fair 

As  any  that  ever  breathed  the  air. 

It  gazed  up  to  the  calm,  cold  sky, 

And  shuddered  to  think  it  soon  must  die. 

At  first  it  languished  and  its  heart  grew  chill 

Till  the  touch  of  a  zephyr  might  well  nigh  kill. 

The  soul  of  the  rose,  with  its  last  sweet  breath, 

Leaped  forth  to  meet  approaching1  death, 

And  it  gave  to  the  breeze  every  crimson  flake — 

'Twas  all  it  had — for  Memory's  sake. 

No  eye  ever  saw  it,  no  mind  ever  guessed 

The  sweetness  of  its  final  rest. 

The  breeze,  thus  ladened,  kissed  a  child 

Who  played  in  the  meadow,  and  pausing  smiled. 

The  dear  enchantment  of  that  spot 

The  child  through  a  lifetime  never  forgot. 

#**#**#*** 

How  came  I  to  know  it?     'Twas  told  by  the  dew, 
How  sweet  is  Remembrance,  and  I  tell  you. 

TO  EASTER  DAY. 

Rise,  rise  Happy  Morn, 

See  the  world's  salvation  dawn  I 

Sin's  and  Death's  dread  chains  are  riven, 

Christ,  the  Crucified,  has  risen. 

Would  this  heart 

Like  Israfel 
Could  impart 

The  raptured  spell. 
Could  enthrall 

The  heavenly  choir, 
Mortals  all 

With  love  inspire! 
Then  this  breast 

Its  chords  would  bare. 
Music's  best 

Is  but  a  prayer. 


OF  BISHOP   DELANY  445 

FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF  LAMARTINE. 

What  is  this  Earth?     A  floating  prison, 

A  narrow  dwelling,   a  tent  arisen 

In  space,  that  is  meant  to  last  a  day, 

Where  the  winds  of  Heaven  course  o'er  in  play. 

The  sea  and  mountain,  valley  and  plain, 

Rise  from  the  dust  to  return  again. 

What  is  its  bulk  to  immensity  ? 

As  the  hour  that  strikes  to  eternity  ; 

A  storied  palace  built  of  clay, 

Where  nothing  changes,  yet  changes  alway  ! 

And  what  is  Life  ?     A  moment's  waking, 
To  be  born,  to  die  ;  gift  lost  in  taking; 
A  word  that  God  speaks  with  disdain, 
A  maze  unsolved,   a  question  vain ; 
A  dream  that  vanishes,  a  spark  of  light, 
A  lightning  flash  that  returns  to  night, 
A  moment  that  Time  lends  man  to  live, 
A  something  not  worth  the  name  we  give ! 

And  what  is  Fame?     But  to  deride 

With  empty  sound,  our  hollow  pride ; 

A  name  repeated,  sordid  pelf, 

Vain,  false,  and  fleeting  as  itself; 

Now  rising,  falling,  from  lip  to  lip  passed 

Into  eternal  oblivion  at  last ; 

A  poisoned  nectar  we  tire  of  never, 

That  makes  die  twice  who  would  live  forever 

And  what  is  Love!     A  holy  theme, 
Should  I  deny  it  I  would  blaspheme. 
It  is  our  life  ;  what  words  can  tell 
Of  the  light  and  fire  that  in  us  dwell  ? 
The  spark  that  from  the  gods  was  riven, 
A  chariot  of  flame  that  mounts  to  Heaven, 
A  ray  from  that  unquenching  sun 
That  melts  two  mortal  hear's  in  one. 
Love  is, — or  would  be — all  to  all, 
Could  mortals  but  this  love  enthrall, 
Did  it  not  end  in  giving  breath, 
As  Love  Divine  for  us  found  death  ! 


446  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

"BENE  SCRIPSISTI  DE  ME." 

(In  the  life  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  the  great  Doctor  of  the 
Church,  whose  feast  day  occurs  on  the  seventh  of  March,  it  is 
told  that  our  Saviour  appeared  to  him  one  day  while  in  prayer 
before  the  tabernacle  and  said  to  him:  ''Thomas,  thou  hast 
written  well  of  Me.  What  dost  thou  ask  for  thy  reward?" 
The  angelic  doctor  replied:  "Nothing  but  Thyself,  O  Lord." 

Thou  great  pure  soul  that  God's  approval  heard 
With  ears  of  flesh,  ere  yet  thy  task  was  done, 
What  rapture  can  with  thine  compare?     Sure  none 

That  earth  can  give.     The  sweetest  note  of  sweetest  bird 

Were  discord  to  the  soul-entrancing  word 

That  broke  the  stillness  to  the  listening  one. 
And  now,  great  soul,  thy  ampler  won, 

Help  us  to  share  the  love  thy  bosom  stirred 
So  we  may  shape  our  days  and  years  as  thou 
Didst  thine,  with  this  blessed  hope  that  we 

May  gain  God's  gracious  sanction  and  reward, 

Which,  though  deferred  it  be,  yet  even  now 

In  life,  in  death,  our  only  choice  will  be 

But  this:  "None  other  than  Thyself,  O  Lord!" 

JESU  DULCIS  MEMORTA. 

O  Jesus,  the  sweet  memory 

Of  Thee  brings  sad  hearts  cheer, 
But  sweeter  far  than  all  beside 

The  thought  that  Thou  art  here. 

The  sweetest  song  of  singing  bird 

Is  discord  to  Thy  Name; 
Today,  tomorrow,   yesterday, 

Thou  art,  dear  Lord,  the  same. 

O  Jesus,  Hope  to  sinful  souls, 

To  those  who  ask  how  kind! 
To  those  who  seek  Thou  art  ever  near, 

But  what  to  those  who  find? 

No  tongue  can  say,  no  words  express 

The  rapture  of  Thy  love, 
But  who  has  felt  can  partly  guess 

The  bliss  in  Heaven  above. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  447 

THAT   FACE. 

Upon  the  shore  of  Galilee, 

Stood  Christ  amid  his  band, 
The  crescent  moon  shed  silver  light 

O'er  rippling1  waves  and  land. 

The  moonlight  seemed  to  linger  there 

E'er  on  its  course  it  sped, 
To  touch  that  holy  brow  and  form, 

And  halo  round  His  Head. 

That  look!     Ah,  words  cannot  express 

Nor  fancy  ever  trace 
The  meekness,  love  and  majesty, 

That  shone  upon  that  Face. 

Those  Eyes!     Those  meek  and  holy  orbs 

Shone  with  supernal  light! 
Well  might  the  stars  draw  back  and  hide 

Themselves  within  the  night. 

Not  with  that  brightness  of  the  sun 

Which  none  dare  look  upon, 
Mild  as  eve's  twilight  Christ's  kind  eyes 

With  love  and  pity  shone. 

He  spoke!     The  music  of  that  voice 

Seemed  strains  that  came  afar. 
From  angels'  lute  when  angels'  hands 

Leave  heaven's  gates  ajar. 

A  heavenly  smile  lit  up  that  Face, 

Nor  did  the  music  cease. 
For  every  word  spoke  harmony 

And  to  each  soul  brought  peace. 
********* 

Ah,  envy  not  those  favored  ones 

Who  stood  beside  Him  there; 
Though  we  such  sight  have  been  denied 

We  still  have  been  His  care. 

His  Heart,  His  Soul,  Divinity, 

His  Flesh,  the  Blood  He  shed 
Have  through  all  ages  since  that  time 

His  faithful  children  fed. 


448  LIFE  AND   WRITINGS 

MY  PIPE. 

Where  shall  I  find  a  friend  like  you, 
So  often  tried,  so  always  true? 
No  varying  moods  save  to  suit  mine, 
Thou  hast  none  other,  mine  are  thine. 

Morn,  noon,  and  night, 

Thou  fairy  sprite, 
Ever  thou  cheerest  with  new  delight. 

In  time  of  grief  no  one  so  nigh, 

To  give  surcease  by  sympathy; 

No  unkind  word  hast  thou  e'er  spoken, 

Nor  gentle  concord  ever  broken. 

Thy  warm  caress, 

Like  a  mother's  press, 
Has  all  that  makes  up  tenderness. 

Thou  comest,  they  say,  from  Venus'  home, 
Wrought  from  the  wild  waves'  crested  foam; 
From  beauty's  bower  and  love's  warm  nest, 
Thou  bringest  me  from  both  what's  best. 

Contentment's  calm, 

And  sorrow's  balm, 
Thou  art  my  solitude's  one  charm. 

P.S.     Should  Exegesis  all  this  question, 
Admit,  at  least,  it  aids  digestion. 

REGRET. 

How  often  we  find  the  loving  word 
Our  heart  was  fain  to  say 

Dies  on  our  lips  and  is  never  heard 
While  the  loved  one  passes  away. 

Passes  away,  never  to  know 
The  good  we  in  him  prize, 

For  when  we  wish  our  love  to  show 
Our  faltering  accent  dies. 

And  yet  the  word  we  deep  conceal 
Might  mend  a  heart  that's  broken, 

Did  we  but  tell  what  half  we  feel 
And  give  love's  tender  token. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  449 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  LEO  XIII. 
A  king  of  kings  thou  wast, 

Anointed,  set  apart ; 
The  Truth  thy  only  sceptre 

Thy  realm  the  human  heart. 

God  gave  thee  length  of  years 

Beyond  alloted  span  ; 
And  every  year  a  glory  was, 

A  blessing  new  to  man. 

The  triple  crown  of  Peter 

Did  well  adorn  thy  brow  ; 
In  death  thou  liest  lowly  — 

The  whole  world  mourns  thee  now. 

But  who  will  comfort  Her, 

Thy  spouse,  who  bears  the  shock ! 

And  who  console  thy  children, 
O  Shepherd  of  the  Flock? 

Our  one  great  solace  this: 

Christ's  Vicar  upon  earth, 
A  crown  more  glorious  waits  thee 

In  thy  eternal  birth. 

Another  Pope  will  reign, — 

"A  burning  fire,"  no  doubt; 
But  with  thy  life,  O  Leo, 

"A  light  in  heaven"  went  out. 

("A  Burning  Fire"  is  the  motto  of  the  present  Pope,  as    "A 
Light  in  Heaven  "  was  the  motto  of  Pope  Leo.) 

WITH    A    CALENDAR 
Christmas  is  a  season  for  friendship's  well  wishes, 

A  time  when  the  Christ-Child's  blessings  abound; 
This  is  the  blessing  I  pray  with  the  year  that  I  send  you, 

"May  yours  be  a  Christmas  the  whole  year  round." 

The  months  and  years 
With  hopes  and  fears 

In  life's  web  blend. 
Blessed  smiles,  blessed  tears 
Through  months  and  years, 

For— O  the  end! 


450  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

WHEN   I   AM   DEAD. 
When  I  am  dead,  as  I  shall  be, 
It  matters  little  then  to  me 

If  no  fair  trophy  marks  my  dust; 

It  is  not  fame  or  gain  I  lust. 
Yet  may  some  one  write  tenderly: — 

"Not  free  from  fault  or  sin  was  he, 
But  did  no  fellow  injury." 
In  God  and  man  I  put  my  trust, 
When  I  am  dead. 

Of  God  I  crave  Divine  mercy, 
Of  man  I  ask  but  charity. 
However  ill,  however  just, 
My  claim  I  leave,  as  life  I  must, 
To  Time  and  to  Eternity, 

When  I  am  dead. 

MEMORARE 
Remember,  Blessed  Mother, 

That  never  was  it  known 
Who  sought  thy  intercession 

Was  left  to  plead  alone. 
Confiding  in  thy  goodness, 

I  hasten  unto  thee, 
Let  not  thy  gracious  promise 

Find  exception  first  in  me. 
Though  most  unworthy  ever, 

Yet  hearken  to  my  cry, 
And  stretch  a  hand  through  darkness 

To  lead  me  to  the  sky. 

MUSINGS. 

As  I  sit  with  idle  pencil 

Musing  on  forgotten  lore, 
And  the  friends  who  have  gone  before  me 

To  the  bright  eternal  shore, 
Floods  of  sad  and  lonely  feelings 

O'er  my  soul  pass,  for  I  see 
Faces  loved,  dear  cherished  faces, 

Gone  from  this  life's  mystery. 
But  a  Father's  faith  has  taught  me 

That  my  loss  is  now  their  gain; 
And  God  grant  when  I  am  summoned 

I  shall  meet  my  friends  again. 


OF  BISHOP  DELANY  451 

A  PRAYER. 

Come  to  me,  Jesus,  when  morning  breaks, 
Come  to  me  when  my  soul  awakes. 
My  earliest  thought  should  be  of  Thee, 
Light  of  the  World  and  Eternity! 

Come  to  me,  Jesus,  when  daylight  dies, 
No  night  so  dark  as  Thy  closed  eyes ! 
Night  has  known  Thy  watch  and  Thy  prayer, 
Sleeping,  unheeding,  I  need  Thy  care. 

Stay  with  me,  Jesus,  the  livelong  day, 
Whether  I  work,  or  weep  or  pray ; 
Thou  art  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life; 
Without  Thee,  no  going,  no  knowing,  all  strife. 

Come  to  me  Jesus,  when  life  is  done, 
Bearing  the  palm  for  victory  won; 
Bring  me  to  Thee  and  let  me  stay 
In  Thy  dear  keeping  forever  and  aye. 

TO    FATHER    O'C. ,    S.    J.,    ON  HIS  BIRTHDAY. 

How   like  this   month   of  smiles   and   tears, 

The  life   you   gave  to   God  : 
The    hope,    the   trust,    the    doubts    and   fears, 

Yet    sweet  the   scourging   rod. 
To   lift    and  twine   a   drooping   flower 

About   earth's  cross  towards    heaven, 
To   whisper   peace   in   death's    dark  hour 

Into  thy    hands    is   given. 

Thy    life    whate'er    its    length  be   blest, 

And    at   its   close  eternal    rest. 


May    Father    Time   upon   thy    brow, 
His  cares   there   lightly    lay. 

Thy   future   years   be    bright   as   now 
Thy   April   change  to   May. 

WHY   THE    ROSE    IS    RED. 

Long,  long  ago,  in  distant  lands, 
A  rose  was  laid  by  childish  hands 

At  Mary's  shrine,  'tis  said. 
The  conscious  flower,  as  Mary's  dower, 

Then  blushing  turned  to  red. 


452  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

IN  MEMORIAM. 
(Written  for  the  unveiling  of  the  monument  to  Bishop  Bradley.) 

Beneath   the  altar   his  body   lies, 

Where  sorrowing   we   laid   him  ; 
His    soul   is   now   beyond   the   skies, 

Returned   to   God    who   made  Him. 

With  tender   hands    these   stones    we    raise 

Before   his    chapel    door, 
Mute  tokens   of  the   love   and   praise 

We  owe   him   evermore. 

Above,    the  cross  of  the   old   land 

His   faith    and   hope   expresses ; 
Joined   now   to    Erin's   sainted   band, 

He  still    his   children    blesses. 

The   face   we   knew    and   loved   in  life 

Looks  down   upon  us    still, 
To  cheer   us   and  to  calm  our   strife 

To  bid  us   do  God's   will. 

The  children    will    not   soon   forget 

The    shepherd   of  the    flock: 
The  elders   will   remember   yet 

Who   built  on   Christ   the   Rock. 

The   poor,   the   sick,    and   those   who  grieve, 

Their   footsteps   here    will   bend 
The  tribute   of  a   prayer   to   leave 

To  father,    patron,    friend. 

And   while   they    kneel    the  prayers    to   say, 

In   loving   gratitude, 
Comes   the   sweet   hope   that   they   too   may 

Share   his   beatitude. 


A    PRAYER. 

Receive,  O  Lord,  my  lowly  homage, 
Make  my  heart  like  unto  Thine; 

Thy  intellect  is  all  perfection, 
Enlighten    this  of   mine. 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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